Harry Potter and the Physical Adept
by HaikenEdge
Summary: The direct continuation of Harry Potter and the Hermetic Arts, in which cyberpunk-influenced, tabletop RPG-loving Harry Potter continues his life in and out of Hogwarts. Dark!Indie!Sarcastic!Paranoid!Pragmatic!Violent!Harry. Book 2 in Harry Potter and the RPG Influence. Rated M for language, graphic violence and sexual content. Dumbledore bashing, apparently.
1. All Summer Long

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 1: All Summer Long**

* * *

The next nine days were hectic.

Despite having done the bulk of the research while still at boarding school, Harry simply did not have the supplies in the quantities he would need to erect the wards he wanted to in his safe house; thus, he spent the first day after his homecoming visiting jewelers and vendors of stone and other types of construction materials, researching who would sell him the goods he wanted for the lowest price in bulk _and_ have his purchases rush delivered to his house. Once he found vendors matching his needs, he put in his orders, then turned his attention to the bulk of the work ahead of him.

With Liv watching, Harry went to work chiseling runes and symbols into the concrete Shaun and his team of builders had put in, plastered over and then painted white, answering her questions as she posed them while he worked on the project. The basement floor and the attic ceilings quickly followed, and by the time the materials he ordered arrived Friday morning, the carvings were complete.

The shipment was a pallet of rough cut amber, amethyst, black obsidian, fluorite and staurolyte, all of the lowest quality and unsuited for jewelers, but perfect for his purposes; after unwrapping the plastic holding everything in place, Harry began transforming the gemstones into a dust-like fine powder with magic, and Liv joined him in the task, making quick work of what took Harry significant concentration and effort.

Once all the stones were in powder form, he began combining them in batches using a commercial mixer until it was all sufficiently blended, then introduced quicklime into the mixture, carefully passing Astral power into the powder to ensure the resulting mixture could continue to retain it, all while separating out small portions and adding water to it in order to check whether there was enough quicklime to produce a mortar-like paste, and only when he managed a combination that could do both was he satisfied.

He began filling in the etchings with the compound in its paste form, starting with the basement floors and pushing Astral power into the cement-like material as he did so before using his magic to quickly harden the substance into a solid. Once she understood what Harry was doing, Liv quickly joined in and helped, taking up a trowel and bucket of her own, pouring magical energy into every inscription she filled over and using magic to speed up the curing process.

When the wards were finally set after every runic carving was filled with gem-infused mortar and Astral power alike, the two began the process of sanding down the fillings until they were smooth and level with the surfaces surrounding them, a labor-intensive process involving sandpaper and hard work. Once the task was complete, the boy and the dragon wallpapered the house from floor to ceiling, then laid down tile for the basement floor, thereby warding the walls, floor and ceiling of the safe house.

By Monday, all that was left were the windows and doors; Harry quickly set the windows with a diamond-tipped chisel he had made with magic, etching runes into the inside of each window, then carved additional runes on the inward faces of the wooden exteriors of the steel-core doors at both the front and back of the house. The windows—being made of glass, itself a byproduct of silica sand—were already capable of holding Astral power, so Harry did not need to do more to them besides the etching, but the wood and steel were inert to the flow of the magical energy at his disposal, forcing him to fill the etchings on the doors with silver he magically liquified at room temperature while channeling energy into it before forcing it to return to its natural solid state, leaving the doors with the appearance of having silver inlays on the interiors.

But that took until Monday afternoon, and with the departure flight was on Tuesday morning, Harry barely had enough time to notify both Fay and Hermione, who had telephones at home, he would be out of the country for the next six weeks.

Those six weeks would be some of the hardest of his life.

**~ooOoo~**

Karen insisted on accompanying Harry and Liv on their trip to the United States despite the boy's protests that he could handle things on his own, but with nothing on her schedule and more than a bit of _Coronation Street_ money burning a hole in her pocket, the actress had signed up for the same program as the two children through Jason, considering it an investment in her now-bright future in the television and film industry.

Jack Ryan (but, as he introduced himself, not _that _Jack Ryan) ran the program, a training camp in Las Vegas for those who wanted an authentic experience in what it would be like to be a spy. Each day began at five in the morning, starting with an hour of drills and physical training, followed by two hours of classroom study, before breaking for the business day, allowing those with day jobs to earn their living. It then reconvened in the evening at six, with another hour of classroom followed by two more hours of drills and physical training. The program provided training in hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship, weapons handling, black bag operations, dead drops, eavesdropping, interrogation, and surveillance and counter-surveillance; though each individual class was not thorough, most participants only stayed with the program for five days, allowing Jack to alter the lessons from week to week, and by the end of the six week period, the material Harry had learned surpassed that of any participant who had only attended for a week.

Even though Harry was a quick study, Liv proved herself a prodigy; a voracious learner, she picked up everything from the first moment she saw it demonstrated, and as the only person with a body similar in size to her, Harry bore the brunt of it, especially during hand-to-hand combat, where she used her vastly superior physical ability, even in her form as a girl around his age, to dominate grappling and striking exchanges alike. In fact, with her superior agility and strength, Liv could easily outmatch the adults taking part in the program, but at Harry's suggestion, she continued to use him as her punching bag to maintain her cover as a human.

It was frustrating, to be faced with an insurmountable genius every single day; any time Harry would think of a new trick, it would be rendered useless by his second attempt to utilize it as Liv adapted a defense against it. Even worse was that she quickly adopted every little dirty trick he came up with into her own arsenal, turning his own weapons against him. It made him feel helpless in the face of an overwhelming opponent, and he did not like the feeling at all.

Still, he was learning much faster than Karen was; she too was attending the program to prepare in advance for any covert agent-type roles that might be offered to her, but the few times they had been paired together for training, Harry had always managed to best her by way of being quicker in both mind and body, something she found more amusing than frustrating. Harry wished he could share her tranquility, but in the end, he supposed it was because their perspectives were so different; after all, she was only preparing for a possible job in her future, while it was a matter of life and death for him.

The training was not why the six weeks were difficult, though; rather, it was a matter of what his pride had made him do.

Karen had offered to pay for the trip, but Harry had refused; despite her newfound wealth, it was not something he could abide by, continuing to rely on her charity when he had wealth of his own and was willing and able to work. Thus, on his second day in Las Vegas, he went out hunting for a job, even though he knew the legal minimum age to work in Nevada was fourteen.

The Jade Garden was a restaurant just off the Strip that served both Japanese and Cantonese cuisine through two separate restaurant concepts within the same facility; when Harry had walked in, asking if they were hiring, the head chef, a squat Asian man with long sideburns and a prodigious gut, only asked a few pointed questions before taking Harry on as a dishwasher, albeit with a backroom agreement of being employed under the table, allowing the chef to save money by paying the underaged British boy who did not have a work visa less than the minimum wage in Nevada, which did not have a state minimum wage, of (the federally mandated) four dollars and twenty-five cents an hour.

And so, Harry worked at the Jade Garden from ten in the morning to five in the afternoon, six days a week, earning just under two pounds an hour, though it was paid in American dollars at the end of every day, usually amounting to around thirty dollars when tips were accounted for, just enough to cover the cost of the hotel room he shared with Liv with a little left over for recreational spending. It was through this arrangement that he learned how the tipping system within the restaurant industry functioned: patrons would tip the front of house staff, who tipped the cooks for having food to serve, and they in turn would tip the dishwashers for having clean equipment ready for the kitchen staff to use.

Two weeks into his job as a dishwasher, one of the line cooks unexpectedly quit in the middle of the lunch rush after getting into a heated argument with the head chef; in the ensuing scramble, Harry found himself promoted to the position of prep cook, a job which paid just a little bit better but also required him to not only complete his tasks as a dishwasher but also keep an eye on the line and get ingredients ready before the cooks ran out of them. It was in this position that the years of experience of cooking for the Dursleys were most useful, as his existing knife skills and knowledge of foods allowed him to step into the role without truly missing a beat, even though he had to be shown how to perform certain tasks before he could do them at the quality expected from a professional kitchen.

It was about that time that Liv became curious as to where Harry was disappearing to each day; prior to that, she had spent her days exploring the Strip with Karen, who was happy to discover the sights of the city. Following Harry to work one day, the dragon in the young girl's body found herself being roped into taking up the dishwashing position so the boy could focus solely on working the prep for the kitchen and even sometimes filling in on the line when a line cook unexpectedly called out. Through this, the dragon began to learn the value of money and just how difficult it was for a person to earn a living; before, she had simply spent the money that was given to her without thinking about it too much, but when she started to work and see just what her labor earned her, she came to realize just what goods and services were worth in relation to the labor required to earn money.

Of course, good things came from the experience too; just from eating the employee meals provided at the Jade Garden, Liv came to discover the delight that was human cooking, which she heartily declared as better than just eating raw meat, though she did continue to have a preference for eating meat. There was also the discovery that, as long as she remained in her human form, her dietary needs were reduced to what amounted to a large portion for a person instead of whole steers, which Harry had been purchasing with his savings, another reason why he was so desperate to work a job, because any way to blunt the dent Liv was putting into the money he had banked was welcome.

Now with her own source of income, Liv could buy things that caught her eye, and by the end of her second week of work, she had purchased herself a Super Nintendo Entertainment System along with a copy of the game _Final Fantasy II_, a game called _Final Fantasy IV_ in its native Japan. From then on, when she was not training or at work, the video game soaked up almost all of her free time.

Except the one time she snuck into a strip club. After that, she was anatomically correct, which only served to make her habitual nudity slightly more awkward for Karen. Harry just didn't care; like he had told Hermione once, he had seen better and more.

**~ooOoo~**

It was the first week of August when Jack finally pulled Harry aside; up until then, their relationship had been cordial but otherwise distant, no different than Jack and any other participant in his program, and though the boy could not put a finger on exactly why, he would have guessed it had something to do with Jason.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Jack without preamble.

"Beg your pardon?" Harry asked, feigning confusion even though he had a guess as to what Jack meant.

"I've been watching you, kid," said the man. "Most people, they're here because they want to play pretend, live out the fantasy of being a spy. You though, you go harder than anybody else who's ever been through the program, you get after it like your life depends on it, and I know you spend time outside of training hours trying to come up with new things you can do to get ahead when it comes back around. Why?"

"How much did Jason tell you?" the boy asked, giving the man a narrowed-eye look as he scrutinized his face.

"Just that you needed to be in the program for six weeks."

"Well, there's somebody trying to kill me," Harry said with a sigh, deciding to give as few details as possible. "I was told he tried once when I was maybe eighteen months old and failed, but then he tried again back in June; that's when I realized he was going to be willing to start a war over it, and I needed to prepare myself for the war that's coming."

"Have you tried reporting them to the police?"

"The police can't even touch him; they know he wants to kill me, but every time they've sent people after him, they've ended up in the ground."

"It's just you against him, then?"

"Something like that."

"In that case, has the program been helpful?"

"Helped a lot, actually. I knew about most of the things you covered because I like espionage thrillers, but being able to learn the techniques involved in those tasks step-by-step is useful."

It was at this point Jack set a wooden box on the table between them, pushing it to the boy. "Jason asked me to get this for you."

Harry took the box hesitantly, then opened it gingerly; quickly his eyes snapped back to Jack. "What the hell is this?"

"It's a High Standard HDM," said the man flatly, as Harry carefully removed the firearm from the box it was in, ejecting the clip and checking its contents before reinserting it back into the magazine well.

Raising the weapon, Harry turned to the side so the man was not within his line of fire, sighting along the barrel for a moment before slowly lowering the pistol.

"This has an integrated sound suppressor," Harry remarked. "It's not legal even in _this_ country."

"Jason was adamant you have one," Jack said, shrugging.

"What cartridge does it chamber?"

"Twenty-two Long Rifle. That mag's loaded with subsonic ammunition."

"If I need more mags?"

"Interchangeable with the Colt Woodsman."

"I'm going to need to fire this on the range after hours, so I can get used to it." A pause followed. "Do I need to break this in?"

"You're free to use the range whenever you need to; just give me a call first. You won't need to break it in, though; I may have acquired it from the hands of a collector, but this weapon's definitely seen action before. Before you ask, it doesn't have any bodies on it; I checked."

"I don't even want to know how."

"Smart kid."

**~ooOoo~**

That very same day, Harry gave his two week notice; though it had not been uncommon during his time at the Jade Garden to have staff, both front of house and back, quit without warning, Harry wanted to part on good terms with the head chef, in case he ever wanted to return to the restaurant in the future. Besides, he had learned a lot from the head chef and cooks, including more than a few recipes from the restaurant's repertoire and some dishes not on the menu but the chef and cooks assured him were authentic to Cantonese and Japanese cuisine; for what he had gained from the experience, paying his respects was the least he could do.

As a side effect of giving his notice, he and Liv started losing shifts at the restaurants as the head chef hired their replacements and began training them for the job. With sudden free time on his hands and a decrease in his daily income, Harry found himself often alone; Karen had started taking meetings with casting agents a few weeks ago, something he had not realized until now due to just how busy he had been with work, and the shifts he had lost were at the same time as the ones Liv still had. Nonetheless, he was worried about the negative cash flow; even though he hadn't really spent the excesses of his earnings, he did not like having to spend money without any income.

The solution, however, came unexpectedly.

**~ooOoo~**

"Hey kid, you wanna score?"

Harry stopped short at the call from the alleyway, barely more than a loud whisper. The speaker was a young man in a hooded jumper, sagging jeans and expensive-looking tennis shoes, a thick gold chain dangling around his neck.

The boy did a quick look around, almost as if checking to see if the man had been talking to him, though in reality checking for surveillance in the form of people and cameras, then gestured to himself with his thumb, and the man nodded.

Feigning nervousness, Harry approached the man, who gestured for him to follow behind him. "What do you mean, 'score'?" he asked, as he followed the man.

He immediately regretted asking the question.

Deeper in the alleyways, in an alcove out of sight from the main streets, a quartet of girls, all who looked quite young, were huddled together.

It was in that moment that Harry realized he had just been pandered to.

"Who'd you like the look of?" asked the man, gesturing to the girls, who had risen to their feet.

"You a copper?" Harry asked with feigned anxiety. "You have to tell me, or it's entrapment."

"Of course not," said the man with a tight smile, in a tone he clearly thought was reassuring but instead felt unnaturally controlled.

"Can I talk to them?" he asked, and when the pimp nodded, he moved closer as though to get a better look at the girls. To the one who looked the youngest, he asked, "How old are you?"

The girl swallowed, looked down at the ground, then said in a soft voice, "Th-thirteen."

Harry turned towards the man. "I've never done this before," he said. "What's the process?"

"You pay me for the time, and then you can take the girl back to your place."

"That seems fair," Harry said. "How much is this?"

"Two hundred for an hour," said the man.

Harry pulled out his wallet, counting out ten twenty dollar bills before folding the banknotes in half in his left hand, extending his hand in what appeared to be a proffered handshake. "I'll take her for the hour," said the boy, gesturing his head towards the girl who had indicated she was only thirteen years old.

The pimp clasped hands with the boy. "Pleasure doing business."

"Pleasure's all mine," Harry said, his grip tightening on the handshake.

Then, he drew his pistol from the holster strapped to his lower back and fired twice into the man's chest, pausing as the man crumpled limply to the ground before lining up a third shot, which he quickly placed between the man's eyes even as his expression showed his absolute surprise as he went completely limp. Whirling back towards the girls, he brandished his pistol threateningly, hissing, "Quiet."

Harry pulled on his basilisk skin gloves, then quickly searched the man while keeping his gun trained on the young witnesses, taking a thick roll of banknotes, a leather wallet and a pistol with a plastic polymer frame from the body, tucking the last of the three into the waistband of his pants and tossing the wad of money to one of the girls, who caught it dumbly.

"Split that amongst yourselves and get out of here" said the boy, as the girls looked confused by the sudden windfall. They needed no further urging, though, as they quickly turned tail and fled together in a pack.

After disposing of the remains with _disintegrate_, Harry threw the bullet hole-riddled garments that remained into a nearby trash can before setting it alight, reduced the bullets and casings into slag with magic, and stripped the paper currency from the wallet before tossing it down a storm drain.

No body, no evidence, no crime.

The boy did not count his blood money until he was back in his hotel room; when it was all said and done, it came out to just under six hundred dollars, mostly in small bills.

Killing the pimp should have been difficult, but he had found it comfortably easy; maybe it was because it was the kind of run he had pulled in _Shadowrun_ dozens of times, albeit with more preparation and against an entire organization instead of just one sex trafficker, but regardless of the reason, it had been as easy as breathing. He felt no remorse for doing what he had; while he may have sold drugs to children his own age, Harry was not a peddler of juvenile flesh and would never be one.

Besides, with his magic, he could easily clean up after himself as long as he wasn't caught on CCTV, and he was fairly certain _invisibility_ could be used to take care of the latter. If not, he could research and develop something similar to _mask_.

At least now he had a lead on an alternate income source; it wasn't like criminals could report crimes inflicted upon them in the commission of another crime to the authorities.

Besides, he truly hated sex traffickers.

**~ooOoo~**

Going to the gun show was Jack's idea, a way to acquire firearms without the need for a background check, by taking advantage of the exemption which applied to the resale of guns between private citizens. Of course, despite all the numerous legal sales going on, every such exhibition has its share of undesirables using the show as cover for selling their illegal wares, and Harry planned to take full advantage of it.

Walking the floor of the convention on his own, he was a little surprised he was not drawing more attention; even though other children his age were there, they clearly were accompanied by adults, likely parents, or guardians at the very least, yet he was allowed to wander around from table to table without so much a question or unusual glance. Still, he did not see anyone who looked likely to sell him weapons.

As he wandered the convention center, Harry began to notice certain patterns of behavior, sidelong glances and small nods people gave each other, the small groupings that seemed to leave around the same time, always involving a few of the same people.

That was worth investigating.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Happy Holidays! As it turned out, this project required a little less research than expected, so I decided to begin publication of the second book in the series earlier than scheduled, as a Christmas gift of sorts, because I already have sixteen chapters written.

Regular updates will now take place weekly on Friday mornings Eastern time, starting on January 3rd, 2020, instead of Sundays, because I now work Sundays and have Fridays as my regularly scheduled day off.

I've been told my author's notes are a bit self-indulgent, but I think I've earned it with the amount of work that goes into every chapter.

This is a direct continuation from _Harry Potter and the Hermetic Arts_; if you haven't read that, I suggest you do, because understanding the first book is fundamental to understanding this one.

I wanted to include the varying aspects of Harry in the first chapter of this book, to reintroduce the reader to who he is as a person and to familiarize new readers with the kinds of things this version of Harry Potter can and will do. There's researcher Harry, enchanter Harry, hard-working grinder Harry, and shadowrunner Harry, and I felt it apropos to include all of those in the first chapter of _Physical Adept_.

Jason Bourne (not that Jason Bourne) and Jack Ryan (but not _that_ Jack Ryan)... there may be a pattern there.

My time working at a restaurant really enlightened me about the situation when it comes to tipping, and it made me realize what really happens to the money that are tips; when a patron does not tip a waiter, what they're also doing is failing to tip the cooks and the dishwashers, and it made me appreciate tipping more. However, I'm still of the mind that tipping shouldn't be necessary in the first place and wouldn't be if restaurants paid their employees a living wage.

Everybody is a nerd about _something_; it's just a matter of the subject(s) and the level of obsession and knowledge.

Read, review, PM me with your thoughts... I'm always happy to discuss my project.

Credit to Wolfman217 for the work they did proofing and editing the chapter while Romantically Distant was unavailable due to university exams; they and I did not part on the best terms, and I would like to take this time to apologize to them about how our last exchange went, as it went badly.


	2. Guns Lots of Guns

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 2: Guns. Lots of Guns.**

* * *

Karl Armbrüster knew the dangers of the business he was in, but providing buyers with firearms was an extremely lucrative and, as long as the end-user certificates were in order, a completely legitimate, if disreputable, business.

Still, taking on so many new clients at once made it difficult to thoroughly vet them all, and now he was paying the price, standing in a remote part of the convention center's parking lot and staring down the barrel of several guns as would-be clients held him at gunpoint with every intention of relieving him of his wealth and the inventory he had in the vehicle behind him.

So focused was he on the guns pointed at him that he did not notice a boy with dirty blonde hair and a punchable face wandered into the meeting until one of his would-be robbers had drawn their attention towards him, hiding his weapon behind his back, as did his friends, before calling out to the child.

"Hey kid, are you lost?"

"A li'l bit," said the boy in a weak voice, looking around. "Ah cain't find mah Mammy o' Pappy.."

"Well, they're not here," said the man. "Now beat it."

"Oh, Ah know," said the boy, his tone suddenly mocking.

Before anyone could react, he had a pistol in his hands and was firing twice into the chest of the man who had greeted him, rushing forward as he did so and pivoting to quickly put two bullets into one of the remaining two gunmen.

By now, the third robber's weapon had swung towards the boy, but the boy had taken cover behind a car, making it difficult to get a clean line of sight to him. This, however, presented no problems to the boy; there was the loud report of gunfire, and the gunman collapsed as his leg crumpled under his weight, blood gushing from a bullet hole in his shin; an instant later, his skull exploded apart backwards, spattering bone and brain matter in every direction.

Karl gulped as the boy emerged from behind the car, pistol trained on him; carefully, the man raised his hands to show they were empty, not wanting to get shot.

"That was a close call," said the boy, his southern twang suddenly replaced by a British accent as he slipped the pistol into his waistband. "So, you selling product out of the back of your vehicle and these men try to rob you?"

"How did you know?" Karl asked.

"I was watching you at the show; you kept leaving with different groups of people, like you were selling something you couldn't put on display on the floor."

"I suppose that is fair," said the man. "What do you want?"

"Just want to do a bit of business," said the boy, smiling slightly. "That's to say, I saved your life, so I think you might be willing to sell me some product."

"What are you looking to buy?"

"Why don't you show me what do you have?"

Karl frowned; the boy might be quick with the trigger and incredibly skilled with a pistol, but he had reservations about showing him his stock. If the boy couldn't pay, he wasn't sure what would happen, especially after he had witnessed the preceding shootings.

"Listen, I could just kill you and take what I want, but I'd rather keep this cordial," said the boy. "It'd be nice to know someone in the biz."

With a sigh, he opened up the back of the box truck, revealing numerous wooden crates, as well as a few unpacked and assembled samples. As he watched, the boy went to the truck, carefully examining the firearms one by one before taking a step back.

"I'll take two of the 5.56 rifles, the MP5, the shotgun and five of the Berettas 92FSs," said the boy calmly.

"The HK33 is four thousand dollars American each, the MP5 is thirty-five hundred, the USAS-12 is three thousand, and the 92FSs are two thousand each," Karl said, then watched in surprise as the boy pulled stacks of hundred dollar bills wrapped in currency straps from his pocket, totaling fifty thousand American dollars, and tossed it onto the back of the truck.

"Do you have any ACOG, red dot or four-ex sights? What about suppressors and threaded barrels? Underbarrel grenade launcher attachments for the rifles with accompanying fragmentation, incendiary, smoke and tear gas grenades? Subsonic rounds?" asked the boy; when Karl nodded after each, still surprised by the money the boy had at his disposal, the boy said, "I'll take two of each sight, a suppressor and threaded barrels to match each minus the shotgun, two of the grenade launchers with a case of each of the grenades, ten box magazines for each gun, and as much ammo to match as I can get, including about a couple boxes for each in subsonic."

It took the weapons dealer a few minutes to assemble what the boy had asked for; once the products and money changed hands, the boy drew the pistol, which Karl recognized as a Glock now they were closer together, from his waistband and withdrew the magazine even as the man flinched, racking the slide and smoothly catching the bullet that was ejected before offering him the gun.

"Get rid of this," said the boy, and Karl took the weapon gingerly. "Listen, give me your business card and then get out of here; I'll make the bodies disappear."

The man nodded dumbly, pocketing the pistol before giving the boy his card. "Who are you?" Karl found himself asking, as the boy glanced at the card.

"Mister Armbrüster, you can call me Whiplash," said the boy with a smile. "Now get out of here."

Karl Armbrüster would not soon forget his encounter with the small boy who called himself "Whiplash".

**~ooOoo~**

With _disintegrate_, cleaning crime scenes was as simple as incanting and gesturing; nonetheless, Harry barely had enough time to stow away the handguns of the dead men along with what he had purchased from the weapons dealer and strip the dead of their valuables, then sanitize the area of blood, bodies, bone fragments, brain matter, bullets and shell casings before police officers appeared, giving him no time to shed his disguise.

"You shouldn't be here," said the first police officer, a woman who looked a little too young to be in uniform, her voice as reassuring as possible. "There were reports of shots being fired; do you know anything about that?"

"No ma'am," Harry lied, trying to look as innocent as possible. "I just got lost looking for an exit."

"Where are your mom and dad?" asked the other officer, a middle-aged man with a moustache, kneeling so he was eye level with the boy.

"Busy, sir," Harry said. "Father is busy playing politics, lobbying the Ministry, and mother is… actually, I don't know what mother is doing, but I haven't seen her in months."

"Who are you here with?"

"I'm actually a foreign exchange student, from London," Harry said. "I didn't have lessons today, so I thought I'd have a stroll on the Strip, but then wandered into the convention hall and got turned around. Next thing I know, I'm here in the garage, completely lost."

"What's your name, kid?" the middle-aged officer asked.

"Draco, sir," Harry lied. "Draco Malfoy."

"Well, Draco, I'm Greg, and if you come with me, I can take you home," said the older officer, his voice calm and reassuring.

"I'd really rather just find an exit," Harry said. "It's still early, and I'd like to find a park so I can enjoy the outdoors."

"In that case, there's a park not far from here; I can walk you there if you'd like."

"I'd like that."

**~ooOoo~**

Harry Potter was having a problem with guns.

He didn't have a problem with them being tools of war; after all, he was no stranger to violence, as a victim or perpetrator, and he considered armed conflict an inevitability, so it made sense to him that guns would exist, and having used guns first-hand, he would freely admit that shooting guns was a fun thing to do.

No, his problem with guns was that they were too damn loud.

While firing his High Standard HDM when it was loaded with subsonic ammunition reduced the noise level to what was shown in films when a suppressed firearm was fired (even though the sound of the pistol's action was also audible), even loading the weapon with standard Twenty-two Long Rifle cartridges lead to an audible crack, made whenever a bullet broke the sound barrier, when the gun was fired, and the Glock he had used at the gun convention had left his ears ringing; had he not had _tongues_ active, he would never have been able to understand a word the weapons dealer had said, only because _tongues_ had allowed him to read lips and understand what was spoken through that method.

It had been a long walk back to the range Jack had told him he could use, including a heat run to ensure the police were not following him, but he was there now and in front of him was a disassembled AMT Hardballer; he had taken it from one of the would-be robbers he had killed, and along Browning Hi-Power and a Smith & Wesson 4506, and he was in the process of trying to figure out a way to solve the noise problem he had with pistols. These were the guns he considered disposable, because he had not paid for them in any way, so he felt comfortable experimenting on them with his magic.

With the Hardballer, Harry tried something simple: applying a _permanency_-like effect to a version of _silence, 15' radius_ with a reduced area-of-effect; he did the entire casting spontaneously, and while the magic certainly did take hold, it had the unfortunate side effect of rendering the weapon completely silent, not just the sound of the gunpowder being ignited, but also the bullet breaking the sound barrier inside the barrel, as well as the weapon's action when the weapon was fired and when the weapon collided with something solid, effectively rendering the gun completely silent no matter how it was used, and while it would certainly protect his ears, it would also draw too many suspicions if he were to use it in view of witnesses.

So, with diamond-tipped stylus in hand, Harry began carving runes on the outside of the barrel of the 4506 after he disassembled it, consulting the memo pad filled with his research on runes, sigils and symbols. Repeatedly etching a stylized 静, the Chinese character for _jing_, "silence", and the Japanese kanji for _sei_, "stillness", into the steel a few inches apart, he inlaid the inscriptions with a gold and steel alloy he fabricated with magic. When he reassembled the firearm and put it into testing, he found it operated no differently when he simply fired it, but as soon as he passed Astral power into the weapon, it reduced the sound of the initial ignition of gunpowder and the bullet breaking the sound barrier to nothing though doing little else to the sound of the action, while also removing the recoil from firing the pistol completely, doing more than he had expected the engraving to do.

With the necessary process developed, Harry put it into fabrication, adding the remainder of his firearms except for two Berettas to the production line, inscribing and insetting each weapon before testing them out in the firing range to make sure they functioned as intended, with the recoil nullification making the automatic weapons infinitely easier to handle during sustained fire.

Once his work was complete, he stashed the weapons in his haversack.

It had been a fruitful day.

**~ooOoo~**

Going to the farewell party at the Jade Garden was not Harry's idea of a good time, but he chose to attend it anyways because he understood Liv needed more experience in socializing with large groups of people.

It was the head chef's idea; despite their short employment at the restaurant, Harry and Liv were both well-liked by the staff, front and back of house alike, and the head chef used that as an excuse for throwing a party, mostly because he enjoyed getting pissed and making a fool of himself, and by having it at the Jade Garden, the food costs to be reduced to the price of the product used and the labor it took to cook it, the latter of which the head chef provided for free.

Thus, Harry, Liv and Karen were at the Jade Garden the evening of Monday, the only day the restaurant was closed for business, the day before their flight back was scheduled, Karen as guest of the boy and the dragon.

Though he had roped in some help from the Jade Garden's resident sushi chef, a Mexican immigrant by the name of Catalaya who spoke broken English and thus found it easier to converse with Harry and Liv through their use of _tongues_ than with the rest of the staff, the head chef managed to put out quite a spread for the party; like most catering events, of which Harry had worked two during the six weeks he had been with the restaurant, the bash gave the head chef a chance to showcase his culinary skills with pizzas, burgers and barbecue, and Catalaya seemed happy to contribute _sashimi_, _nigirizushi_ and a self-serve burrito bar, all off-menu items, to the party on the company dime.

Despite being the one the party was being held for, Harry insisted on bringing something to it, and after Liv learned why, she eagerly insisted on chipping in money for the gift so they would be able to afford something better, and together, they purchased a hundred-dollar bottle of twenty-five-year-old single malt scotch from specialty store that sold only liquor, with Liv taking the form of a wizened old crone to avoid being carded; when the head chef poured himself a shot from the bottle and had a drink from the chilled glass, he declared it the best whiskey he had ever tasted, and the other party-goers, even those under the legal age, passed the bottle around and had a drink.

It was only then that Harry first noticed her, a slender young woman he had never seen before at the restaurant, her flesh the color of alabaster, without any of the undertones of pink usually found in the skin of exceptionally pale people, her diamond-shaped face, lightly spattered with freckles, framed by straight hair that looked like it was spun of burnished copper, albeit with a matte finish. Most striking, though, were her eyes, pale jade green irises rimmed by rings of pearlescent greyish-blue that reminded the boy of labradorite; they were simply beautiful to behold, and whenever their eyes met, he could sense the intelligence behind them.

What really piqued his curiosity, though, were the earrings she wore; though most would mistake it for the anarchy symbol inverted vertically, Harry saw the telltale details in the horizontal line and recognized it as something else, something he was more than familiar with.

He was about to approach her to start a conversation when he found himself suddenly being pulled aside by Liv, who had a tumbler with two fingers of whiskey in each hand.

"You should be careful with her," said the dragon cryptically, handing the boy one of the drinks. "There's something about her aura; I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Normal people don't have auras," Harry said, remembering what Liv had told him about her observations of mundane people.

"Exactly," Liv said, taking a sip of her drink.

"How are you holding up to the alcohol?"

"I like the taste, but otherwise, it does nothing for me."

"And the party?"

"The food's really good; Catalaya really outdid herself with the burrito bar. I've already had four."

"Sushi's good too," Harry said, before lowering his voice. "I'm glad Chef didn't put that together."

"I know, right? He's kind of shite at it," the dragon-in-girl-form agreed, tone conspiratorial. "Guess that's what happens when you're a western chef from Vietnam in charge of a restaurant that serves Chinese and Japanese food."

With that, Liv flitted away and back to the party, leaving Harry with drink in hand.

Turning back towards the young woman he had wanted to speak to, he found her giving him an inquisitive look with her head cocked to the side quizzically, and he took the opportunity to approach her.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, and the woman gestured to the seat.

"What was that about?" she asked, her voice soft and husky, a slight southern accent, much more subtle than the one Harry would assume for Hunter Whiplash, coloring her words.

"She thought I should have a drink," said the boy, shrugging. "Funny, because I'm only twelve.

"I'm Harry, by the way," he added, proffering his right hand.

The young woman clasped it lightly in her own, gently placing her left hand on his forearm; Harry noticed her skin was cool to the touch but not clammy.

"Patience, but my friends call me 'Pace'," said the redhead, letting go of the boy's arm after a long moment.

"So, who are you here with?" Harry asked.

"Oh, she's around somewhere," said the redhead vaguely, craning her neck as she searched the crowd. "Must have went to the bathroom."

"Huh," said the boy, before deciding to change the subject. "Love your earrings. Clan Brujah?"

"Yes," Patience said. "They were a gift; I'm more a Caitiff girl myself."

"Clanless is always a classic, especially if you're playing high generation with thin blood," agreed the British boy.

"Yeah, and that feeling like you don't belong and you're just trying to find your way in life really speaks to me on a personal level."

"I know the feeling. I was an orphan who was placed with an abusive foster family."

"That must suck. How are you here now? From your accent, you must be from England, and I don't see an abusive foster family letting you travel on their dime."

"I got out," said the boy with a shrug. "So, what's your story?"

"I'm from Roanoke, originally," said the redhead. "Moved here about two years ago because I just had to get out of Virginia; it's almost like it's five years behind the times there. Anyways, I had a life-changing event happened to me about a year ago, and that's why I feel like I'm trying to find my way again."

"I had that kind of thing happen to me last summer," Harry sympathized. "I was lucky enough to have a strong support system to help me through it."

"That's good," said the woman. "So, you play anything else besides _Vampire_?"

"Honestly, I'm not much of a _Vampire_ player," the boy admitted. "I'm more _Shadowrun_ and _Dungeons & Dragons_, _Cyberpunk 2020_, _Ars Magica_, _Cyberspace_ and _Millennium's End_."

"I've never heard of _Cyberspace_ or _Millennium's End_," Patience admitted.

"_Cyberspace_ is like _Cyberpunk_, just percentile system, and _Millennium's End_ is like playing a techno-thriller, like a Tom Clancy novel."

"Cool," said the woman. "What else are you familiar with?"

"_DC Heroes_, a bit of _GURPS_, _2300 AD_, _Talislanta_, _Hero System_, _Dark Conspiracy_, _Tales from the Floating Vagabond_, _Paranoia_, _Nightlife_ and _Robotech_."

"That's a lot of systems."

"What can I say? Tabletop role-playing games is my main hobby. What about you?"

"Besides _Vampire_, I know _Amber Diceless_, _GUCS_, and _TWERPS_, and I've read a few _Shadowrun_ novels."

"_Gucks_?"

"_Generic Universal Comedy System_."

"And _Twerps_?"

"_The World's Easiest Role-Playing System_."

"I've always wanted to learn _Amber_, but never knew anybody interested in teaching it."

"And I've always wanted to learn _Ars Magica_," Patience said. "I know this little hole in the wall diner not far from here; want to meet later this week?"

"I'm actually flying out of the country tomorrow," Harry said.

"In that case, if you give me half-an-hour, I can grab the books from my place and meet you at the diner," the woman suggested.

"What's it called?"

"The Nomad Express, on Lytton, near Montclair; it's open all night."

"Sounds as good a place as any."

"See you there?"

"I'll be there."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Another ahead-of-schedule update is a go! Yayifications!

Gunrunner contact, get! Arms trafficking is actually a completely legal business despite how it's depicted in popular culture; as Karl notes, as long as the end-user certificates are in order, you can pretty much sell any weapon to anybody. Of course, selling guns out of the back of a box van is probably not exactly legal, and as Harry realized in the previous chapter, if you rob somebody who is already committing a crime, they can't exactly report it.

It should be remembered this version of Harry was not just neglected and verbally, emotionally and psychologically abused, but also a victim of frequent beatings from Dudley, as was alluded to in _Hermetic Arts_, so his view of violence as a tool to get what he wants makes perfect sense, as is his severely muted reaction to it.

_Disintegrate_ is and always will be one of my favorite spells in _Dungeons & Dragons_; I've found, if there's a problem, that spell will probably solve it, and if you can't think of how _disintegrate_ can solve the problem, then you're not _disintegrate_-ing enough. My other favorite _Dungeons & Dragons_ spells are _grease_ and _shatter_; add _time hop_ from 3.5e psionics to the mix, and I legitimately believe you could get out any situation with just those four spells/powers in your arsenal.

I actually don't know what Draco Malfoy's mom does. I mean, she's supposed to be a stay-at-home mom, but, at the same time, I'm pretty sure she's got house elves to handle all the things a stay-at-home mom would normally do, so I'm actually clueless as to what she's doing with her life when the Death Eaters aren't Death Eating. With that being said, I'm also not _actually_ a fan of _Harry Potter_, so that's probably a reason why I don't know this, and I actually don't care what she does in her role as a stay-at-home mom; I just found it odd that she was one, even though the usual duties of a stay-at-home mom would be things she wouldn't have to do. I guess she just spends all her of time loving her kids?

One of the problems I've always had with the depiction of firearms in popular culture is just how loud they are; even with a sound suppressor attached, firing a non-subsonic round will still result in a very distinct and loud crack when the bullet breaks the sound barrier while it's inside the barrel. In fact, the only reason to use a sound suppressor if you're not also using subsonic ammunition is just so you can avoid using earplugs, because the shot is still going to be heard, even if it's not as loud as a gun without a sound suppressor being fired. Even a sound suppressor and subsonic rounds doesn't make a firearm _that_ quiet, as the sound of the gun's mechanics functioning are still audible, albeit only within the same room or so.

The Jade Garden is inspired by a restaurant I worked at; unlike the fine dining Japanese & Chinese restaurant that is the Jade Garden, the one I worked at was a fast-casual Japanese restaurant meets American bistro, but in both cases, they were two restaurant concepts in one building. The head chef of the Jade Garden was inspired by the head chef I worked for at the restaurant, and Catalaya is inspired by a Mexican sushi chef who worked at the restaurant.

I was always taught to bring a gift when you're invited to a party, even if you're the guest of honor, because it's the courteous thing to do. That said, when I worked at the restaurant, even those under the legal age drank during company parties, which always bothered me, but I think it was restaurant culture and chose to reflect it in the story.

The description Patience gives of Roanoke is actually an exact word-for-word quote from a sushi chef I met when I first moved to Christiansburg when we were talking about the cuisine available in the area, so it's not exactly me bagging on where I currently live in comparison to where I lived previously.

_GUCS_ eventually became _Risus_ and was privately distributed beginning in 1989.

Many, many thanks to the amazing Romantically Distant, who proofed this chapter and got back to me _way_ earlier than expected, which allowed me to publish it and deliver it directly to your eyeballs ahead of schedule. Now you've read it, feel free to leave a review or send me a PM about this story.


	3. This Masquerade

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 3: This Masquerade**

* * *

It came out of nowhere, so he was not ready for it when it happened.

One moment, Harry was walking down the street, towards The Nomad Express; the next, he found himself being physically carried into a dark alleyway by something stronger and faster than he thought humanly possible, though still paltry compared to the full force of what the dragon he trained with on a daily basis could bring to bear, his surroundings blurring with the speed at which he found himself moving.

It all came to a sudden, jarring stop as he was slammed hard into a wall, feet dangling off the ground, and he let out a growl from the back of his throat as a jolt of pain shot up his spine, though this was nothing compared to the excruciating feeling of something sharp tearing into the right side of his neck even as he was pinned against the wall, though something was pressed against his mouth, stifling the scream of pain before it could leave his lips.

The boy struggled ineffectually for a moment against whatever it was that held him to the wall; then, he strained to reach the monoknife in his pocket with his fingertips, finally managing to snare it with the tips of his fingers just as he was beginning to feel the effects of blood loss.

Flipping the blade open with one hand, Harry was glad in the moment that the monoknife required very little effort to cut, as he weakly swung the knife's edge across whatever it was that was holding his mouth, drawing a cry of pain and surprise.

Crashing to the ground, Harry toppled over sideways and hastily clamped his left hand over where he could feel the blood flowing freely from his throat, brandishing his knife with his right as the shape that had attacked him stumbled backwards, revealing a humanoid figure that took him a moment to recognize behind his blurred vision and lightheadedness.

"Why...?" he barely managed weakly.

The woman, missing a hand, lunged forwards towards the boy at an impossible speed, and he angled his blade upwards and outwards with the butt of the knife up against his cheek, even as he turned away from his attacker defensively.

The attack never landed; there was a blur of motion, and then the redhead was pinned to a wall with one hand by a diminutive girl with mud-colored hair, her golden amber eyes seeming to glow with inner fury in the dark of the alleyway.

_§Are you hurt?§_ hissed the dragon-in-girl's-form, her back to the boy.

"I'm gushing," said the boy, releasing his neck would for a moment as he dropped his knife, sloppily forming the _prana mudra_ in his lightheaded state, whispering "_Creo corporem_" as he weakly imagined his neck wound closing.

There was the familiar warm rush of Astral power as it forced his flesh grow and repair itself; only after the tear in his neck had knitted close did he feel usual feeling of magic restocking his body of lost blood, and only when he felt his sense of equilibrium return did he cut off the flow of Astral power to his body.

Surveying his surroundings, Harry saw the detached hand on the ground; not too far away, Liv effortlessly held the one-handed Patience pinned to the brick, giving the boy a look of concern even as the redhead struggled mightily but uselessly against the dragon.

Harry noticed that the stump at her wrist where he had severed her hand with his knife was not gushing blood as he would expect from a freshly severed limb; adding this to everything else he had previously noticed, only one thing made sense.

"You're a vampire," Harry stated flatly. "Makes sense, with your pallor, lack of body heat, extreme speed and strength, and lack of bleeding despite having a hand cut off."

At the statement, Patience struggled even harder against the dragon-in-a-girl's-body.

"What are you, a vampire hunter?" Patience snarled, both hands around Liv's wrists as she pressed both feet against the brick of the wall behind her, trying to manage enough force to free herself yet failing miserably, as she could not even budge the dragon despite the brick starting to crumble under her feet.

"I'd be a pretty shitty vampire hunter, seeing how I didn't even know your kind existed in the real until just now," Harry said. "No, I'm a Hermetic mage, and my friend here is both faster and stronger than you, as you can probably tell by now, so if you try anything stupid, she'll dead you for real."

Harry nodded to the dragon. "You can let her down, but be prepared to engage."

Without a word, Liv withdrew her hand from where it had been pressed against Patience's belly, and the vampire dropped lightly to her feet, with the two giving each other suspicious looks.

"Let's introduce ourselves properly this time," Harry said, picking up the severed hand and tossing it to the redhead, who caught the severed limb and pressed it against the stump; after a moment, she flexed her fingers as though to make sure they were working properly.

"Patience Leigh Madison, Caitiff," Patience said begrudgingly.

"Harry Potter, Hermetic mage," Harry said.

"Olivia Baldursdóttir," said Liv, using the cover name provided on her passport and other official documentation. "Nothing you want to fuck with."

"That's ominously vague," said the vampire, eyeing the girl she didn't know was a dragon. "I'm still very hungry."

"Any dietary restrictions?" Harry asked.

"I can only have blood; everything else I've tried, I've thrown back up after a few hours."

"You could have picked any drug dealer or vagrant," Harry said.

"I didn't think you'd fight back," Patience admitted. "If I had known, I'd have picked an easier meal."

"Well, whatever it is, I hope you can control your hunger for a bit, because we're going to talk about this," Harry said. "It's the least you can do after attack me out of the blue."

"I'm really hungry," the woman reiterated. "And you just stopped me from having a bite to drink."

"Does animal blood work?" Harry asked.

"I've only had it once," Patience admitted, almost shamefully. "It was filling."

"In that case, I know a place," Harry said.

**~ooOoo~**

"_M goi_, _sam bong ju hung_," Harry said in Cantonese to the man behind the meat counter; he had been to the shop once before with one of the Cantonese cooks during an emergency shopping trip when the restaurant had run out of some specialty ingredients.

"_M goi sai_," said Liv, as the man handed her the plastic container wrapped in a produce bag.

"_Ha chi gin_," called out the man with a grin, and the two children waved back.

"What is this stuff?" Patience asked, as they walked away from the meat department.

"'_Ju hung_' is pig blood curd or blood tofu," Harry said. "It's basically pigs' blood and salt."

"I didn't know this existed," said the vampire.

"I wouldn't either if we didn't have that run on _lap cheong fan_ a couple days ago that cleaned us out of _lap cheong_ and we had to get some more for the dinner rush," Harry said, as they came to the registers; once the cashier scanned them through, the boy paid for the purchase with a crumpled ten dollar bill, the last of the money he had taken from the sex trafficker, then passed shopping bag of blood curd to Patience while thanking the girl who had rung them up.

Once they stepped outside the store, Patience tore through the bags to get to the container, ripping the clear lid off the carton before reaching in and taking out a cube of jiggly, dark red substance; after looking closely at it for a moment, she popped into her mouth, chewing for a moment before swallowing.

A tense silence hung in the air for a long moment. Then, Harry thought he saw a droplet of red run down the vampire's cheek.

"Are you crying?" asked the boy.

"A little bit," admitted the vampire, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. "It's just that it's been almost a year since I've eaten anything solid. Or seasoned with salt."

"That's good, then," said the boy. "We really should talk about this, though."

"I could eat," remarked the dragon.

"Didn't you just leave a party with food?" Patience asked.

"She can always eat," Harry said, and Liv nodded in agreement.

"The Nomad Express is open."

"We'd probably be better off going to a buffet. She can eat a lot."

"Whole cow sometimes," the dragon added lightly.

"In that case, there's a Golden Corral not far from here."

"That'll do her."

**~ooOoo~**

"So, you're telling me you just woke up one day and you were a vampire?" Harry asked, incredulous of the claim.

Liv was away, getting her fifth plate of food; as always, she could just pack it away.

"Shh!" Patience shushed. "Please don't be loud about it."

"Why, though?" Harry asked.

"Masquerade breach."

"You mean that's real?"

"I don't really know, but I don't want to risk it," said the redhead. "I mean, I had a one-night stand with Jacob from my _Vampire_ group right before I became one, so I think he's my sire, and I can't help but think he'd only be in the game because it's accurate to life, since he was always talking about how realistic and visceral playing it felt.

"And, also, I woke up one night and was kindred; I literally slept through my shift, and when I woke up, I was starving. Tried to eat what I had in the fridge, but the hunger wouldn't go away and I threw it all back up in about an hour; that's when I had Pepperoni, and I knew what I had become."

"Pepperoni being…?"

"My cat."

"Don't animals usually flee from cainites?"

"Not for me."

"Huh… So, what clan are you?"

"I don't know; I never saw Jacob again."

"What about other Kindred?"

"I never found any, but that doesn't mean they're not watching."

"That explains why you identify with Caitiff then. How about disciplines? From your strength and speed, you must have a little bit of Potence and Celerity."

"Like I said, I don't know what clan I am, so I don't know anything clan-specific, but I do have Celerity and Potence, and Auspex; I was actually wondering why you have a bunch of sparkles in your aura and Olivia's just feels oppressive to even look at."

"Like I said, I'm a Hermetic mage, so you must be seeing that," said the boy. "As for Liv, it's not my place to tell you her secrets."

An awkward silence sat for a moment. Then, Patience spoke.

"You know, I was surprised when you fought so hard after I gave you the kiss," said the redhead. "Everybody else I've given one to almost goes limp from the pleasure."

"I've got a permanent thing that prevents mental tampering," said the boy with a shrug. "Guess it must be a kind of psychic effect and not a physiological one."

"Must be."

"What about the Beast? Do you ever have problems Frenzy? What about Rötschreck?"

"When you cut off my hand, I did Frenzy; would probably have drank you dry too."

"In the case, I'm glad Liv saved my ass," said the boy, as the dragon sat down with another plate of heaped high with food.

"Glad to have helped," Liv said, before biting a chocolate-covered piece of fried chicken thigh clean in half, bones and all, the sounds of crunching accompanying her chewing. Seeing Patience's cocked head, she added, "Don't judge me, it's really good."

"So, do you miss anything about being kine?" Harry asked, ignoring the dragon's response.

"I miss being able to go out during the day, and everything that entails. I miss eating solid food. What I really miss, though, is any kind of physical pleasure; while it hurts when I'm injured, things that used to feel good, like a massage, don't feel like much of anything anymore."

"I guess that's code for bumping uglies," said the boy.

"What's 'bumping uglies'?" Liv asked between bites.

The vampire cocked her head to the side, a quizzical look her face.

"We go to a private school that doesn't have sex education," Harry said with a shrug.

Then, for the benefit of the dragon-in-girl's-form, he added, "It's sexual intercourse."

"Oh, that," the dragon said dismissively. "I don't see what the big deal is."

"Sounds like you miss being alive," Harry said, ignoring Liv's comment.

"I really do," Patience agreed. "But that's neither here nor there."

"Actually, I might have a solution for that," said the boy thoughtfully.

"Really? You can cure me?" Patience asked excitedly.

"Maybe," Harry said. "It's just a theory, so it's untested, and it'd only work back in Britain, because I left the materials there."

"I don't have a passport," said the redhead, slumping in defeat.

"Neither did I, but that hasn't stopped me from traveling."

"Then how did you...?"

"For legal reasons, you really don't want to know," Harry interjected. "Point remains, though: if you're willing to give it a go, I can get you across the Atlantic."

"In that case, I'll take you up on your offer."

"Pack what you need and meet us at McCarran International, in front of the check-in desk for British Airways, at 8 PM sharp."

Patience checked her watch. "That's twenty hours from now."

"I know. You better hurry if you want to do this."

"I'll be there."

**~ooOoo~**

As Harry had expected, sneaking somebody onto a trans-Atlantic flight was laughably easy; all he had to do was get the vampire to climb into his haversack and then conceal the bag itself under his coat, and he walked through customs without being spared a second glance.

Of course, this only meant it was just as easy to sneak his recently-acquired arsenal, kept hidden in a safe he had purchased and then secreted behind a bunch of his food stocks, onto his flight home; in this way, his haversack made smuggling child's play, and he cursed himself for not acquiring even more contraband to take home with him.

It was the afternoon of the next day when they landed in London; immediately after returning to the safehouse, Liv wanted to go to the bank to change her hard earned American dollars into pounds sterling, and Karen offered to chaperone her, wanting bonding time with the dragon, leaving Harry to his own devices.

With his training from the program, Harry decided to break into Romy's home; the deadbolt proved no challenge for a bent paperclip, and when he let himself in, he was assaulted by the smell of a living space rarely cleaned. With a few hours on hand before Romy would return home from her job at the laboratory, Harry decided it was time to once again clean the dorm that neither Romy nor her flatmates seemed willing to.

By the time the front door clicked unlocked again, the boy had taken out the trash and properly mopped the floor, first with water, then floor cleaner, and finally with floor wax he had found under the kitchen sink; he had also started cooking an evening meal with ingredients he had purchased before boarding the plane, so the dorm was filled with the scent of chili powder, tomatoes, cumin and cilantro.

"Smells good, 'Squeak," said Romy as she closed the door behind her. "How'd you get in?"

"Picked the lock," the boy called back from the kitchen. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Who else would break in, then clean the place and cook dinner?" asked the university student.

"Fair point."

"So, what're you making?" asked noirette as she walked into the kitchen.

"_Carne asada_, _pico de gallo_, _arroz rojo_ and _frijoles negros_," said the boy without looking up from the food he was cooking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get any of that," Romy said, running her fingers through her hair and pulling it out of her face.

"Grilled skirt steak, fresh salsa, red rice and black beans," Harry reiterated in English. Gesturing to the plate of tortillas next to him with a moist towel draped over them, he added, "Burrito bar."

"Sounds delicious," said the graduate student. "So, why are you here?"

"I need some of the Stone, for an experiment," said the boy.

"How much?"

"Just a tiny bit. Can be leftovers from testing as long as they aren't contaminated."

"What are you planning to do with them?"

"Figured I'd try making some Elixir of Life; I've got a theory on how to make it, but I'd have to test it."

"On who? Yourself?"

"Funny you should ask. I picked up a vampire in Las Vegas."

"You what now?"

"Her name's Patience, she's Caitiff, and has Potence, Celerity and Auspex. Also might be Thin-blooded, from the way she describes being able to hold down food for a couple hours before vomiting it back up and animals not reacting negatively to her."

"Wait, the Masquerade's for real?"

"Don't know. She's never found any other vampires post-embrace, she's not even sure who her sire is, though she suspects it's somebody from her old _Vampire_ group, and she didn't want to risk breaching the Masquerade to find out."

"Where is she?"

"In my haversack. It's funny how laughably easy it is to smuggle things through airports."

"You kept a woman in your bag?" Romy snapped suddenly. "Harry Potter, you let her out right this moment!"

"She was sleeping," the boy protested, but otherwise didn't resist, going over to his haversack, flipping open the flap before reaching inside and snapping his fingers. A moment later, the pale, freckled woman emerged from the bag, her red hair looking slightly messy.

"I'm hungry," she declared casually, before nodding at Romy. "Hi, I'm Patience Madison. Friends call me 'Pace'."

"Rosemary Davies," Romy responded automatically. "'Romy'."

"So, about the Stone," Harry interrupted.

"I've got a couple scraps," said the graduate student. "They're in my room; I'll go get them."

"Food should be done by the time you get back," the boy said.

"What's that about?" the vampire asked.

"The cure I was telling you about," said the boy, as he began to cut rested flank steak into thin strips with a chef's knife. "Again, don't know if it'll work."

"Still have to try, though," the redhead said, and Harry shrugged, taking a tortilla and filling it first a scoop of _arroz rojo_, followed by a spoonful of _frijoles negros_, then a few strips of _carne asada_ and a scoop of sprinkling of _pico de gallo_ before rolling it up tightly and wrapping the resulting wrist-thick cylinder of food in a square of tin foil.

As the graduate student returned to the kitchen, a small, capped vial in hand, the boy rolled the burrito across the counter towards her; catching it with one hand, Romy set the vial down, and Harry took possession of it.

"Pestle and mortar?" asked the boy.

"Cupboard to the left of the stove," said the noirette, peeling the foil from the food before taking a large bite. "This is good."

Harry grunted as he retrieved the tools he was looking for; emptying the vial into the bowl of the mortar, he began grinding the shards and shavings into a fine red dust. Passing Astral power through the resulting powder made it glow faintly, and Harry fetched a glass, filling it with about a centimeter of water before pouring the pulverized Philosopher's Stone into the liquid, stirring it with a spoon until it formed a thick, glowing paste.

"What the hell is that?" Patience asked, staring at the glass as Harry added more water and continued to stir it. "Why is it glowing?"

"It's a bit and that," said the boy vaguely, continuing to stir for a moment before swirling it around in the cup to check its thickness; satisfied with the result, he pulled the spoon from the liquid and tapped it on the rim of the glass, then offered it to the vampire.

"What is this?" the redhead asked again.

"Theoretically, a cure to being Kindred besides walking into the sun."

Patience studied the contents of the glass for a moment, then quickly closed her eyes and downed it in one quick swallows.

Silence, punctuated only by the sound of Romy's chewing, hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity even though it was only a long moment. Then, the vampire retched violently, rushing over to the kitchen sink and immediately heaving, regurgitating a goopy, dark red sludge with the viscosity of pancake batter.

Patience continued to vomit nonstop for the better part of a minute, before finally straightening up, wobbling slightly as tears rolled down her cheeks and she panted for breath, her face flushed from exertion while the rest of her skin displayed a soft, pink undertone.

"You might want to check for a pulse," Harry said casually

Two of Patience's fingers immediately went to her wrist, and her eyes slowly widened.

"I'm alive," breathed the woman, surprised but seemingly relieved. "I'm really alive!"

Suddenly, Harry found himself being crushed in the redhead's embrace.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" exclaimed the American repeatedly, planting kisses on the boy's face.

"Please… let… go… before… some… thing… breaks...," Harry barely managed to squeak out, and Patience immediately released him. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he added, "I see you still have Potence."

"Auspex too," the American added. "I can still see your aura, sparkles and all. It's beautiful." Then, seeing the spread of food strewn across the kitchen, she asked, "Mind if I eat?"

"Go for it," Harry said, before looking to Romy. "I guess that's how you make the Elixir of Life."

"Say what now?" Patience asked, a spoon in her mouth as she heaped a mountain of meat, beans, rice and salsa onto a plate.

"A bit of magic stuff," Harry said.

"That's a lot of food," Romy added, changing the subject. "Are you sure you can finish it all?"

"I haven't had any real food in almost a year," Patience countered, between bites of beans and rice. "Oh god, I can even taste food now… It's soooo good..."

"What is this stuff anyways?" asked Romy, gesturing to the large glass bowl of diced red, green and white vegetables.

"_Pico de gallo_," Harry said simply.

"Why's there so much?"

"Normally, I hate raw onions, but with _pico de gallo_, I can eat a big bowl of it on its own and not have to reach for water."

The side conversation was interrupted by the sound of sobbing; turning towards Patience, the two saw that she was crying as she continued to shovel food into her mouth with a spoon in one hand and a fork in the other.

"Are you all right?" Romy asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," said the redhead, still crying. "I just never thought I'd be able to eat food again."

**~ooOoo~**

Patience was bouncing up and down like a rubber ball when Harry came to her door first thing in the morning; she had spent the night in a rented room at The Footman, reading a travel guide book for the greater London area Harry had purchased for her from Tesco.

"Good morning," said the redhead cheerfully, greeting the boy and the dragon with him.

Harry winced at the woman's enthusiastic greeting; he was still adjusting to the change in time zones, and the only thing the night's sleep had done was make him even more tired.

"Morning," said Liv, surveying the woman with narrowed eyes. "I take you slept well."

"I haven't slept at all, and I feel great," Patience said brightly. "I've never had so much energy before in my life, and I've never felt so alive.

"I saw sunlight for the first time today since my embrace," the woman continued, clearly elated. "It was beautiful; I never thought I'd see it again.

"I haven't felt the hunger in the pit of my stomach that was there after I woke up as Kindred since I had that drink last night, either; I haven't hungry at all, in fact."

"That's good, but let's not get too excited, yet; we still don't know if you'll relapse or not," warned the boy grimly.

Patience shrugged. "So, what're we doing today?"

"Testing and documentation," Harry said. "We need to know the extent the Elixir changed you from before."

**~~ooOoo~~**

"What is this place?" asked Patience, looking around as she took a drink of water from the canteen Harry had supplied her with.

"Old abandoned warehouse converted into a private training facility," Harry said, without looking up from the legal pad of notes and the hardback book in front of him.

"Whose is it?"

"Mine."

"Yours? How?"

"I'm from money, and I've been working on earning more of my own," said the boy, frowning.

"But how?"

"A couple rental properties, for one," said the boy, before changing the subject. "This is very impressive."

"It is?" asked the woman.

"Without Celerity, you can run a sub-four minute mile, which is better than the world record Melinte set two years ago, and you kept that pace for a full twenty minutes, which puts you just over five miles," Harry said, consulting his notes. "With Celerity on full, you ran a mile in about a minute, and you did that for a full ten minutes without seeming to run out of vitae."

"When I used Disciplines in the past, I'd physically feel my reserve of vitae being drained, but this time, I felt it being drained and replenished at the same time, almost like by body was producing it as quickly as I was using it up," Patience said.

Harry scribbled a few things down on his legal pad. "You bench pressed four hundred pounds without any real effort, which is pretty impressive since you admitted to never having lifted weights before," he continued, as he thumbed through a hardback book. "Given what you've told me about your experiences in the night, it doesn't seem like you'd have invested so heavily in the Potence Discipline."

"What do you mean?" Patience asked.

The boy turned the book around to show the redhead. "If what you're saying is correct, you only have one dot in Strength, so, to lift four hundred pounds as effortlessly as you did, you'd need three dots in Potence, except it just doesn't seem like you'd have invested that much in it."

"You're right," the redhead said. "But what does that mean?"

"Some of the things in the book are probably correct, or can at least be used for comparison," theorized the boy. "Other things might just be made up or changed for the sake of balancing the game when it's being played."

"Okay, so what then?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then, no matter what happens next, don't move."

The former vampire nodded, swallowing hard, and Harry put down his pen and legal pad.

Then, the boy drew a pistol from his waistband and fired it straight into the redhead's thigh, the weapon silent except for the sound of the mechanics of its action.

"What was that for?" Patience demanded, clearly angry.

The boy looked closely at the gunshot for a moment, then wrote something down. "You're not hurt," he said matter-of-factly.

The redhead blinked in surprise, then looked down at her own leg, only to see nothing interesting beyond a torn hole in her close-fitting jeans..

"I don't get it."

"You don't _just_ have Celerity, Potence and Auspex," Harry said. "You also have Fortitude, which is why the bullet failed to penetrate your skin."

"Then how did you cut off my hand?" Patience asked.

"Monoknife," the boy said. "Edge is only a molecule thick. Cuts just about anything."

"That's impossible," the woman argued. "Technology hasn't reached a point where it manufacture something like that yet."

"You forget I'm magic," Harry countered. "Have you tried Obsfucate, Presence, Animalism or Dominate yet?"

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, uncertain what the boy meant.

"I'm guessing you discovered you had Celerity, Potence and Auspex and then stopped trying to see if you had any other Disciplines, which is why you didn't know you also had Fortitude," explained Harry. "Given those Disciplines would require you to actively try to use them, I could see why you wouldn't think to try them."

"Huh, I didn't think of it like that," said the woman. "Can I see the book?"

Harry handed the hardback to the redhead, who flipped through the pages for a moment before stopping on a page, reading it intently for a moment before putting the book down.

"Look away until I say when?" Patience asked, and Harry nodded, obliging.

It was only a few seconds later before he heard the woman call out, "Marco!"

Harry turned back, but the woman had vanished into thin air.

"Where'd you go?" Harry asked.

"She's hiding in the shadows over there," Liv called out from the stationary bike she was riding, pointing.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he looked in the direction the dragon had indicated, squinting hard as he tried to focus his eyesight behind his glasses. It took a moment, but then, umbral tendrils peeled away from the pale redhead's skin, revealing her crouched in the shadows.

"So, Obsfucate is a go," Harry said, and Patience nodded. "I guess you could try the other Disciplines on your own time, since Dominate, Presence and Animalism won't work here, and then report back your own findings."

"I would never use Dominate on somebody," the redhead said. "I can't stand the thought of using mind control on somebody and erasing their free will."

"Then you're a good person," said the boy. "Magical society has no problems doing that."

"Really? That can't be true."

"And yet it is, which is why we need your status a secret."

"What do you mean?"

"You basically have all the strengths of a vampire, and none of the weaknesses," Harry said, as he flipped back through his legal pad. "All the physical abilities to be a superhero, almost magical powers that let you do things which defy natural law as people understand it to be. Plus, we know for a fact you can walk into places without invitation, garlic has no effect on you, you can walk in the sun like a normal person could, and the only thing we haven't tried are stakes and holy symbols, but I don't want to stab you in the heart, and I'm not one of the faithful."

"What are you saying?" Patience asked again.

"You need to uphold the Masquerade, because, right now, you're a vampire daywalker who the government would probably love to get a hold of and dissect in the name of research," the boy said grimly. "Of course, that assumes there aren't other vampires out there watching you, or hunters who might want to kill you.

"I like 'daywalker'," said the daywalker.

"If you do get caught, you might lead them back to me," Harry continued.

"I would never do that," Patience said adamantly. "But you're right; if I continue to uphold the Masquerade, it'll make life easier for all of us. But to do that, I'm going to need a job and a place to stay permanently."

"Do you want to go back to Vegas? I could probably find a way to arrange something for you."

"No, I think I'd like to stay here in England; I've always wanted to travel around Europe, and I feel like, if I'm here, I'll have more opportunities to do so."

"Well, then, let's get you papered."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Congratulations to everybody who guessed Patience was a vampire, but I do think I made that one pretty obvious.

A little basic wrestling booking 101; show Patience as much more powerful Harry, then job her out to Liv, to establish the pecking order in this little magical world as dragons vampires people.

I remember reading while researching for this book that vampires were apparently real in the Potterverse, yet they never really came up within the context of the books even with all the information regarding all kinds of other ostensibly difficult to find creatures, which led me to one conclusion: they must be maintaining the Masquerade. From then, integrating _Vampire: The Masquerade_ made perfect sense to me within the context.

Let's just remember that, before September 11th, 2001, airport security was basically nonexistent; it took a black swan event to change that, so I wanted to highlight that lack of security in a story taking place in summer of 1992.

As I've said previously, things will come back around; unlike the original series, where the Philosopher's Stone was a McGuffin for one book and then promptly forgotten, it will keep returning in this series, because it's an amazing piece of magic.

I've always been curious how real life would be balanced in a game, considering there are some really below average people and some really, really excellent polymaths, and the discussion of game mechanics versus how Patience actually functions is a look at how I view balance a game versus reality.

A vampire, a dragon and a Hermetic mage walk into a Harry Potter fanfic. This is starting to sound like a really bad joke.

Thanks again to the amazing Romantically Distant for proofing and editing this chapter. Now you've read it, feel free to PM and review.


	4. Papers, Please

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 4: Papers, Please**

* * *

"Please stand over here, in front of the screen, look downwards slightly, and don't smile," said Jason, Polaroid camera in hand, and the daywalker did as instructed, letting the shopkeeper take her photograph.

"Can you explain it to me again like I'm five?" asked the redhead.

"A friend in the State Department who owes me a favor agreed to fast track your passport and ship it here," said the man, as he waved the photograph through the air. "A bloke I know in the Home Office has agreed to get a visitor visa for you in exchange for me doing him a small favor."

"I don't want to impose…," Patience started, but was stopped by Jason, who held up a hand.

"You're in a new country that you entered illegally, and you're Kindred," said the shopkeep. "Let's just say you owe me a large favor I'll collect at a later date, and we'll call it even."

"I won't do anything immoral," warned the redhead.

"That's fine."

"I really don't know how to thank you."

"Don't get in trouble with the law," warned the shopkeep. "With your visitor visa, you'll get deported if you do."

"Understood."

"Where are you staying? Jason asked.

"Right now, she's staying at The Footman," Harry said. "But with a tourist visa, she's not going to be able to take on work, so she's going to need to find a free place to stay or find a job that pays under the table."

"Shaun's company is always hiring," the shopkeep pointed out.

"Shaun?" asked the daywalker.

"A mutual friend; I believe he said he'd be on that construction site on Linkfield Corner today."

"Good to know," Harry said. "We'll go there and talk to Shaun."

**~ooOoo~**

"You're a what now?"

The expression on the construction foreman's face was one of confusion.

"Kindred," the daywalker repeated.

"I don't know what that means," Shaun said.

"Cainite," reiterated the redhead.

The construction foreman's confused expression did not change.

"She means she's a friend of the Count who was slain by Van Helsing," Harry interjected.

"What?," said man, before starting. "Oh!"

"Yeah," said the boy with a wry smile.

"It never gets dull with you around," Shaun said, before turning back towards the daywalker. "What did you say your name was?"

"Patience Madison," said the redhead.

"Do you have any experience in construction, Madison?" asked the foreman.

"None at all."

"I assume you can lift heavy weights?"

"I bench pressed four hundred pounds earlier today," said the vampire.

The man looked to the boy and the dragon, who both nodded to confirm her story.

"In that case, I can offer you a position as a construction laborer," said Shaun. "It'll pay five pounds an hour during your trial period, after which you'll receive a wage increase of twenty-five pence…"

"I'm here on a tourist visa, so I can't legally work," Patience interjected. "How does that change things?"

"In that case, we can employ you under the table for three pounds fifty an hour during your trial period, and four pounds an hour after that."

"I guess that'll have to do."

"This company pays out weekly, on Fridays, and if you need to find a place to stay, I know a place that's renting out rooms."

"Is it one of Harry's rental properties?" Patience asked.

"You're clever," remarked the man, giving the boy a smile of approval. "It's basically Harry's."

Seeing the concerned look on the woman's face, Shaun added, "Don't worry, I'm the property manager, and you'll certainly be getting the friends and family discount."

"You might want to give her a discount for providing additional security, too," Harry suggested. "There's very few in the world who could outmatch her physically."

"I'll take the job," Patience said, shaking Shaun's hand. "I'll need to see the room before I decide."

"Glad to have you on board," said the foreman. "Now if you'll excuse me, my lunch break ends in five minutes, so I'll be seeing you then, Madison."

**~ooOoo~**

Harry looked through the folder of official documents and paperwork he had been given by Jason at the beginning of June; with the tripped already planned when he had received it and his being busy everyday in Las Vegas, the Hermetic mage had not had the opportunity to really read through them as carefully as he had wanted to, though now that he had, he could not help but admire just how thorough the shopkeeper had been.

Not only had Jason acquired a passport for him for use during international travel, but he had also gotten the boy legally emancipated, with the papers to prove it, something that would be absolutely impossible through legal channels for Harry as far as the boy knew, as he was not over the age of fourteen and could not prove his financial independence and ability to live on his own, not to mention the impossibility of demonstrating that his current living situation was not in his overall best interests, given the Dursleys were no longer in country if hearsay was to be believed, and that all ignored the fact emancipation normally only applied to minors whose natural parents were still alive.

Also included in the folder were a birth certificate with his name on it, even though all of the information on it was almost certainly fabricated from fiction, a plastic numbercard for his National Insurance number, an identification card with a photograph of him on it, and documents showing his adoption of Olivia Baldursdóttir, again something that would be illegal under normal circumstances, since he himself was a minor, and yet, he had papers to show it was the case.

Harry briefly wondered what Jason had done to get those papers, but decided it wasn't an answer he had a burning desire to discover for himself.

Liv had received a similar package of documents, though both her passport and birth certificate used the name "Olivia Baldursdóttir" and were Norwegian in origin; her adoption by Harry, however, made her a citizen of the United Kingdom, and thus she also had a British passport and a numbercard for her National Insurance number.

It had taken some explaining before Liv came to understand her human cover identity as well as the implications of each document; when she had asked about the bureaucracy involved, Jason had chuckled and launched into a story about paperwork and government employees, until both the boy and the dragon eventually gave up on getting a straight answer.

So, with paperwork and documents in hand, Harry had come with Liv to the Ministry of Magic; the experience of entering the structure through a telephone box on a derelict street had been something Harry thought unbecoming and unprofessional of a government agency.

That did not, however, affect their main goals for the day, to get Liv registered for Hogwarts under her human cover identity; now that she was more comfortable in her human form, Harry thought it best for the dragon to gain wider exposure towards school children so that she could better appreciate humanity through its purer form as well as be exposed to a wider variety of magic beyond what he himself could cast.

"I'm sorry, Mister Potter, but I simply do not believe you," said the magistrate, a stuffy-looking middle-aged man stuffed into a robe that looked two sizes too small for his hefty frame.

"I have the paperwork right here," said the boy, as he carefully laid several sheafs of paper on the desk between himself and the bureaucrat.

The man shuffled through the documents momentarily, but dismissive look on his face melted into one of confusion and surprise before he looked back up at the boy and the accompanying dragon-in-girl's-form.

"This is impossible!" the bureaucrat sputtered.

"As you can see, these documents say otherwise," said the boy, gesturing to the papers on the desk.

"But these are only muggle documents," said the magistrate.

"Is there other paperwork legally proving my existence?" Harry asked. When the man shook his head weakly in negatory, the boy smiled tightly. "Well, as a subject of the British Crown, these documents are legally binding; seeing as no papers of adoption were ever filed following the death of my parents when I was foisted off onto relatives, this document of emancipation simply makes my legal independence cut and dry."

"But you're only twelve," protested the bulky man at the desk. "You need to be at least fourteen to be emancipated."

"Paperwork says otherwise," said the boy. "You can call me a special case; aside from my age, I'm independently wealthy, I've been cooking and doing the housework for my relatives since they could make me, and since they abused me emotionally and physically for as long as I could remember, the Crown thought it best I be allowed to go my own way, rather than try to place me with another foster family."

The bureaucrat swallowed visibly, attempting to digest this information. Looking at Liv, he said, "Still, I cannot believe they would allow you to adopt a child."

"As an emancipated minor, I have the same rights (and responsibilities) as an adult," Harry said. "As for the adoption, it was facilitated through an agency after I met Liv and she told me her guardian was letting people touch her without her permission; after my experiences with abuse, you can understand why I couldn't just let it go."

"Yes, I understand," the magistrate sputtered. "But why are you here?"

"This is the Ministry of Education, is it not?"

"Yes…"

"I'd like to register my daughter for Hogwarts so she can attend come September."

"She could be a muggle!" protested the magistrate.

As if on cue, Liv raised a hand, a small ball of fire floating an inch off her palm, rotating slowly as thin wisps of smoke rose from the dancing flames.

"You were saying?" Harry said, cocking his head to the side.

The magistrate started to protest, but Harry fixed him with a hard glare and he barely managed to stammer out an apology before proceeding to get the boy the forms necessary to register a recently-immigrated magical child for attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It took Harry and Liv nearly ten minutes to fill out the forms and another fifteen to triple check it for mistakes and possible legal loopholes and general chicanery; only after the two were satisfied did they submit the paperwork, and by the hour's end, Liv had her admission letter and a list of supplies she would need, which perfectly mirrored the list Harry had received by post the previous year.

**~ooOoo~**

When she had first received the anonymous invitation through her editors at _The Daily Prophet_, Rita Skeeter had been suspicious; after all, why would a source want to meet her specifically, and in a cafe in the muggle world, no less?

Nonetheless, she could not deny her curiosity was piqued and so when the day of the meeting arrived, she arrived at the meeting site a good thirty minutes early, hoping to spot her mysterious source when they arrived, but instead, she was waved over to a booth in the back corner occupied by two small children as soon as she walked through the door.

"Please, sit," said the boy in the hooded cardigan, gesturing to the available seat opposite himself and the girl in the floral sundress. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Darjeeling, please," said the witch to the waiter who had taken her to the table as she sat down. "I'm sorry, I haven't had the pleasure," she remarked, turning towards the boy and the girl.

"Harry Potter," the boy said, lips twisting into a ghost of a smile. "This is Olivia Baldursdóttir."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Potter," said Rita, the gears in her mind already turning. "But I'm afraid I don't understand why you'd request a meeting with me, and anonymously, at that; certainly a celebrity such as yourself would only need to mention your name to schedule a meeting with anybody."

"Let's cut to the quick," said the boy flatly, the smile fading from his lips, and more importantly, from his eyes. "I've read quite a bit of your work; in fact, I read quite a bit of every one of the dozen or so journos employed at the _Prophet_. At best, you're a sensationalist, and at worse, you're a fabulist."

Rita felt her cheeks flush in anger, as she rose. "I didn't come here to be insulted," she huffed.

"I'm not insulting you, I'm simply stating facts," said the boy calmly. "Is it not true you sometimes use fabricated information in your reporting?"

The round-faced blonde glared at the Boy-Who-Lived, but slowly sat back down. "I will neither confirm nor deny that allegation," she said after taking a moment to consider her words.

"That's fair," said the boy, with a shrug. "Would it be accurate to say, at the end of the day, 'anything for a headline' would best describe why you write the way you do?"

"What's wrong with that?" Rita demanded defensively.

"Nothing," the boy said. "I just wanted to make sure I read you right."

"So, let's say you did," said the reporter. "What's it to you?"

"You don't need to be so defensive," the boy said. "I want us to be friends."

"You want to be friends? After calling me a liar?"

"Are you not a basically liar?"

Rita started to retort, but found she didn't have one.

"Yeah, I thought so," said the boy. "Listen, I don't care that you falsify information when you're writing your articles; if anything, I _like_ that you're flexible with the truth. It's a good thing."

"That's a very… enlightened way to see it," Rita said, surprised at the boy's open-mindedness. "What did you mean when you said you wanted us to be friends?"

"I'd like to offer you a chance to tell the world the story of my life so far," said the boy. "If that goes well, you'd be the only one I'd trust to continue to tell my story."

"And what's in it for you?" asked the blonde witch suspiciously.

"I'd like it if you didn't turn your pen against me, my friends or my allies," said the boy. "I've read your work, and when you bury somebody, you make sure they're never getting out of the hole you dig for them."

"You're offering me the exclusive rights to be the chronicler of your life, and in exchange, I don't write anything nasty about you?" Rita reiterated, wanting to make sure she understood the offer clearly and without misinterpretation.

"I may also want you to write unfavorable articles from time to time."

The reporter carefully considered the proposition the boy was making; the chance to be the exclusive reporter telling the story of a celebrity of the Boy-Who-Lived's stature with his official endorsement would give her instant credibility even her most vocal critics could not deny, and his moral flexibility had already piqued her interest, while she could not see any downside in agreeing to never write a hit piece against someone who would essentially be her benefactor for years to come, and if occasionally writing a hatchet job against targets of his choosing was the price, the arrangement was still seemed favorable to her. Nonetheless, if he was approaching her with the proposal, maybe she could get something more out of it.

"Is there anything else you can give me?" Rita asked.

"I'd be more than happy to provide you with insider information straight from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry if this relationship goes well," said the boy, with a smile. "For example, did you know that Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, did not spend a single lesson teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"I did not," Rita admitted, extending a hand. "You've got yourself a deal."

"I'd like to make it a blood oath, if you don't mind," Harry said.

"Is that like an Unbreakable Vow?" the witch asked, more than a little worried.

"I don't know what that is, but I don't believe so," said the boy, taking out a switchblade knife and cutting across the palm of his hand before gesturing towards Rita's outstretched hand. "It's just something normal people do to show they mean to stay true to their word. May I?"

Swallowing, Rita nodded, gritting her teeth against the pain as she felt the knife drag across her open hand, cutting skin and flesh and drawing blood.

As they clasped hands, the boy said, "I swear you, Rita Skeeter, will be the sole exclusive reporter who I will endorse as the authorized chronicler of my life story, and I will provide you with insider information regarding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"I swear I will not write unfavorably about you, Harry Potter, or people you tell me are your friends or allies, and I'll sometimes write unfavorable articles targeting those you ask me to," Rita said, and as she did so, she felt magic flow through her.

Before the handshake ended, the girl Rita had forgotten was sitting next to Harry lightly placed her hands over the clasped hands, and the reporter felt the pain in her hand melt away, replaced with a comforting warmth; as their hands parted, she looked at her palm and saw the cut had vanished, like it had never even been there.

"How did she do that?" Rita asked. "And who is she?"

"Rita, this is my daughter, Olivia Baldursdóttir," Harry said, and the girl nodded, smiling tightly.

"A daughter?" Rita asked, her curiosity once again piqued. "There must be a story there."

"Oh, there is," Harry said, smiling roguishly. "Aren't glad you've got the exclusive scoop."

"So, how will this work?" asked the reporter.

"We'll talk, we'll decide on a narrative we want for the story, and when you write the article, you can make up any details to fill in the spaces as long as it doesn't change the narrative.

"So, shall we begin?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Welcome to favor bank, the main source of Jason's power.

I kind of imagine Shaun being the guy who shouts "NERD!" in Homer's voice when it comes to certain RPGs, hence his confusion about _VtM_ jargon.

There's a bit of hand-waving when it comes to the documentation aspect of Harry's existence. From my research, I know that in the U.K., getting legally emancipated as a minor is extremely difficult, requiring the minor be over fourteen, be financially independent, be capable of living on their own, and it be not in their general best interest to continue living in their current environment. Unfortunately, Harry already fails on the first count despite passing the following three, assuming the Dursleys are considered his current environment, but I wanted to use the amount of paperwork Jason got done for Harry as a means to demonstrate just how far his reach goes.

Yes, getting an international adoption that fast is very, very difficult, unless you're super rich and know what palms to grease. Also, as an emancipated minor, Harry would have all the rights of an adult, including adoption, but as a minor, that'd be difficulty, unless you're super rich and know what palms to grease. Or just have Jason Bourne at your back.

Since Harry was born while is parents were in hiding, I figured it'd make sense they wouldn't have filed paperwork with the magical authorities. I mean, how much would it have sucked if it turned out that the reason they were found, after all, was red tape and not Rat's betrayal.

I know that, in the original book series, Rita Skeeter turns into a thorn in Harry's side, but for shadowrunner/cyberpunk Harry, having somebody in the media makes complete sense, given the way corps and the wealthy have always used the media to manipulate and control narratives in cyberpunk fiction and games. Thus, it makes sense to me that Harry would want a journo in his pocket, and who better than one who is as ethically flexible as he is.

My eternal gratitude to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant. They put up with so much of my crap, and I want to thank them for all they do for me. As for the rest of you, having read all this, feel free to review or PM me about the story.


	5. Twenty Questions

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 5: Twenty Questions**

* * *

"Is what's written in the _Prophet_ true?"

The Hermetic mage instantly recognized the caller as Hermione Granger, and her tone as one of outrage.

It had been three days since the first meeting and sit-down interview with Rita Skeeter on the Twelfth, and today was the day the first article in the series was to be published.

"Good morning to you too, Danger," said Harry.

"Did your aunt and uncle really not let you have medical treatment after your cousin beat you?" the girl pressed. "Did they lock you in the cupboard under the staircase at night without food?"

"Danger…"

"I know, I shouldn't believe everything I read, but you officially endorsed Skeeter!"

"Just because I endorsed the writer doesn't mean I went through the story line by line."

"Just what exactly does the endorsement means?"

Harry paused, considering the timing. It was Saturday morning, and he was about to go to Bourne's Comics & Games to browse the newly released comics and play in the newly formed combined _Vampire: The Masquerade_ and _Werewolf: The Apocalypse_ game Patience was going to be storyteller for.

"Let's not do this over the phone," said the boy. "When are you free to meet face to face?"

"Let me ask mum," said the girl. A long moment of silence followed, before she came back on the line. "What about tomorrow?"

"Works for me. Jason's place?"

"Have you gotten your supplies for this year yet?"

"I haven't even gotten a letter yet."

"I already got mine, and I think you'll probably need to get a few things too, so let's meet at Diagon Alley at ten."

"Works for me. I'll be seeing you, chummer."

**~ooOoo~**

"You're early as always," Harry remarked, as Hermione arrived with her father at Soykaf Source, the cafe across the street from the Leaky Cauldron, a full thirty minutes before the designated meeting time; it was a business Ethan had only set up after the previous Christmas when Harry had suggested such a place as a possible meeting place for normal families with magical members, and once the establishment open for business, the boy had sent out flyers to the families of such students attending Hogwarts, so it was of little surprise that it was flourishing at this time of the year when students would be getting their supplies for school, in addition to the normal foot traffic passing through the region.

"You're earlier," the bushy-haired girl countered, before waving at the dragon-in-girl's-form. "Hullo, Liv."

The dragon grunted a greeting, not looking up from the grey brick in her hands, her thumbs darting quickly over its faces.

"What is she doing?" asked the girl.

"Liv's discovered the magic of video games," said the Hermetic mage with a shrug. "Bought herself a Game Boy with the money she earned from her summer job. She's either playing _Metroid II_ or _Kirby's Dream Land_."

"It's _Metroid II_," Liv said without looking up from the screen before her.

"I'm Patience," said the daywalker, who had agreed to accompany Harry and Liv on their trip to Diagon Alley. "Friends call me 'Pace'."

"Hermione Granger," said the girl, shaking the redhead's hand. "See, Harry, her accent sounds way more real than yours."

"That's because she's _actually_ from Virginia," said the boy.

"You are?" Hermione asked, and Patience nodded. "I thought you were just using an accent, like Harry sometimes does for his Hunter Whiplash character."

"Hunter Whiplash?" asked the daywalker.

"Shadowrunner from a connected southern family."

"That sounds like a bad stereotype."

Harry shrugged. "We should go."

"Wait!" said Hermione. "I invited Fay, and she invited Neville."

"I thought it was just the two of us," Harry said.

"Surprise?" said the Ravenclaw in mock sheepishness.

"I'm going to get you for that," growled the Hufflepuff.

"I don't doubt it," Hermione said, almost regretfully. "Still, Fay and Neville've been looking forward to seeing you again since you went overseas for the summer."

Harry sighed. Hermione was clearly trying to get him to connect to the two Gryffindors, even though he considered them nothing more than assets and did not want to forge any sort of emotional connection with them, lest it make it difficult for him to later utilize them in ways that might endanger their health and safety.

Still, the invitation had been extended, and he wasn't going to turn his best friend into a liar if he didn't have to.

Then the Asian girl Harry recognized as Hermione's Hogwarts roommate arrived with a man Harry could only guess was her father due to the resemblance.

"It's you," Harry said.

"You forgot my name, didn't you?" said the girl. "Hermione said you might."

"Su and I've been studying together while you were overseas," Hermione told Harry.

"Is Su short for anything?" Harry asked.

"Su-Jin," said the Asian Ravenclaw.

"Korean?" asked the Hufflepuff, and Su-Jin nodded.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were Chinese," Hermione said, looking aghast.

"_Jal ji ne shut sso yo_?" Liv asked, looking up from her game momentarily, interest piqued.

"I'm doing well, but I don't really know that much Korean," she said, looking at her father with a glint of guilt in her expression.

"I told her she should learn, but she said she didn't want to," her father added. "Now, maybe with you around to speak it at Hogwarts, maybe she'll finally want to learn Korean."

"We actually only know bits and pieces," Harry lied, then gave Liv a quick glance; the dragon caught the look and shrugged slightly before returning her attention to the game in her hands.

"That's a shame," said the Korean man, the disappointment evident in his voice.

"So, is what's in the _Prophet_ true?" Hermione asked.

"Let's wait until Longbottom and Dunbar get here," said the Hufflepuff. "I'd rather just answer questions once."

"Fine," Hermione groused.

A moment of awkward silence followed. Then, to fill it, the bushy-haired Ravenclaw asked, "What did you do while you were overseas?"

"Liv and I went to summer camp," said the boy.

"And we worked at a restaurant to help pay for it," the dragon-in-girl's-form added.

"What kind of summer camp would be in Norway?" Su-Jin asked, curiosity obviously piqued.

"Who said we were in Norway?" Harry asked.

"Well, the article in the _Prophet_ said you adopted Olivia from Norway, so I thought that's where you went to camp."

"I just stopped in Norway for a layover," Harry said. "That's when I met Liv, and once I heard about what was happening to her, I paid an agency to facilitate an expedited adoption."

"But don't adoptions take a long time?"

"Not if you have money and give a token of your friendship to the right people."

"You're talking about bribing somebody, aren't you?"

Harry considered the Korean girl for half a moment; her expression told him she was half-incredulous and half-scandalized by the casual audacity with which he talked about ostensibly committing a crime, and if her invitation on the trip by Hermione was any indication, she was going to become a regular member of the group going forward through her friendship with his best friend.

Ultimately, he decided on shrugging. "It's just how things are done in some parts of the world," he said. "I think your father might know what I mean."

"Daddy?" Su-Jin asked, turning towards her father.

"In Korea, that's how business was conducted if you wanted anything done," said the man, a pained look on his face.

There was another moment of silence, before a look of horror slowly grew on Su-Jin's face. "But, but you said you were a government official before you immigrated to Britain," she said.

"Well, frag me," Harry mumbled under his breath. He had not intended to suddenly tear down a father in front of his daughter's eyes.

"I've heard it's that way in India, Vietnam and Cambodia too," Patience interjected, drawing the horrified Ravenclaw's attention. "Sometimes, you just have to go along to get along, or everybody else will be suspicious of you. Don't rock the boat, you know?"

When the Korean girl looked confused for a moment, Harry realized her naive, childish morality wasn't able to reconcile what she believed was right with the reality of the situation.

"If your father hadn't taken the bribes, his colleagues would probably have found a way to get rid of him," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "The worst thing for a bunch of bent government officials is having an honest one amongst them, so your father did what he had to do to survive."

"But it's wrong!" Su-Jin protested.

"The world isn't that simple," Harry said calmly. "Sometimes, you have to do bad things to get a good result."

"That's not true!" she said.

"Help me out here, Danger," said the Hermetic mage, turning to his friend for help.

Hermione considered the request for a moment, then said, rather quietly, "By dropping the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the United States military machine murdered about a quarter million people, mostly civilians, and many of them died agonizing deaths."

"That's horrible," said Su-Jin, looking even more horrified.

"Military historians estimate that, by dropping the bombs, ten million lives were saved," Hermione added after a moment. "The only realistic response besides the atomic bombs would have been to firebomb the rice harvest, which would have lead to a famine, killing millions, followed by bombing the major cities of Japan with fire, and that would lead to the order being given to Japanese soldiers to execute all Allied prisoners of war held in P.O.W. camps. There's also the atrocities the Japanese forces were committing in China and Indonesia. The ten million lives number is actually considered a conservative estimate."

Su-Jin fell silent, trying to process what she had just been told.

"Been studying military history like I suggested before I went out of country?" Harry remarked, more observation than question.

"It's horrifying just what people are willing to do to each other," said the bushy-haired girl somberly as she nodded. "In just the two world wars, one hundred fifty million people were killed, and they developed so many ghastly new ways to cause pain and suffering."

"Human history has sadly been the history of violent conflict," Harry said grimly.

A gloomy silence hung in the air for a very long moment, only to be broken by the arrival of the Gryffindor girl energetically pulling the Gryffindor boy along by the hand.

"What's with the long faces?" chirped Fay brightly, while Neville stood bent over, panting with his hands on his knees.

"Good, you're here," Harry said with no change in his tone. "Let's get the questions out of the way first, so they're not hanging over us later."

"Questions? About what?" asked the Gryffindor.

"You don't read the _Daily Prophet_?" Hermione asked.

"No? Why?"

"Where do you get your news from?"

"_The Economist_ and _The Observer_," said the Gryffindor girl.

"But what about news about the magical world?"

"Dad says the _Daily Prophet_ and _The Quibbler_ are worse than the _Daily Mail_ and _The Sun_."

"He's a wise man, your father," Harry said. "For those out of the loop, I sat down with, and gave an interview to, Rita Skeeter of the _Daily Prophet_. With all the fables and misinformation floating around out there, I thought I should tell my side of the story. She published the first of the series in yesterday's edition of the _Prophet_."

"I saw that," Neville said, finally catching his breath. "Gran was shaking in rage by the time she finished reading it."

"Do I want to know what's in it?" asked Fay.

"Even I don't know what's in it," Harry said flatly.

"But you gave her an interview!" Hermione protested. "And the article said you officially endorsed her to tell your story."

"I only gave her the broad strokes and enough details to make it feel visceral and real," Harry said with a shrug. "The rest, I gave her permission to make up as long as it conformed to the narrative I wanted to set."

Everyone but Liv looked confused for a long moment; then, Hermione's expression changed into one of realization.

"Information control," she said.

"Exactly," Harry said.

"I don't get it," Neville said, scratching his head.

"Harry likes to control what people know about him, because that puts him at an advantage when dealing with them," Hermione explained.

"So you want people to know you were beaten and treated poorly by your aunt and uncle?" Su-Jin asked, frowning. "And that you can't use magic?"

"Yes and yes," Harry said. "People view me as some kind of messiah figure, when really, I was just in the right place at the right time and got very lucky."

"But you defeated He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named!" Fay protested.

"Were there witnesses?" asked the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Well, no…"

"So, the only people who really know what happened are me and You-Know-Who, and I was only eighteen months or so old at the time, so I don't remember anything about the incident. Since they never found a body, what's to say he didn't just suddenly bugger off because he wanted to make everybody think he's dead?"

Silence hung in the air at the thought; it was a disturbing notion to consider for most of the adults and children in the room, but for one person, all it did was sow confusion.

"Um, I don't want to sound stupid, but who is 'You-Know-Who'?" Patience asked.

"Oh, right, you wouldn't know," Harry said. "'You-Know-Who', also sometimes called, 'He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named', was a self-styled dark lord who founded a death cult called Death Eaters and murdered the shit out of a bunch of people because they didn't agree with him or because he thought they were unworthy of being alive."

The daywalker considered the idea for a moment. "So, magical Charles Manson?"

"Who?" Harry and Hermione asked simultaneously.

"Charles Manson," Patience said. "Started a cult that taught that he was the reincarnation of Jesus and a race war was coming. He instructed his followers to kill people because he believed the deaths would provoke a race war."

"That's eerily accurate, minus the race war thing," Harry said. "He's more like Charles Manson if Charles Manson was a white supremacist and led the Klu Klux Klan."

Patience considered the description for a moment. "That's kind of scary," she said finally.

"But Harry defeated him," Neville said proudly.

"Yeah, I don't believe that," Patience said. "If he was really just a toddler like he said he was, there's no way he'd be able to beat a grown-ass man."

Another moment of silence followed, before Harry interrupted it.

"So, any questions?"

"Is it true your aunt and uncle encouraged your cousin to beat you?" Fay asked.

"Yes," Harry said, and he saw a flash of anger in her eyes. "Before you think of doing anything stupid, they've already fled the country for who knows where."

"Did they really make you eat out of a pet bowl?" Su-Jin asked.

"Skeeter made that up."

"And what about sleeping in a closet under the stairs?"

"Did they really call you 'freak'?"

"True on both counts."

"Is it true they would send you to bed without anything to eat?"

"Doesn't making you cook and work in the garden violate child labor laws?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** A bit of a transitional chapter that I'm using to set up a few things down the line.

Even if Harry hadn't intend to include her, Hermione's roommate was always eventually going to be involved by her sheer proximity to Hermione. The decision to have her be Korean was something I made back in _Hermetic Arts_, she as introduced even then as "Su Lee", as opposed to "Sue Li" in the original series; I didn't want the only East Asian characters from the original books to show up in this version of the story to both be Chinese, and my research showed a large number of Koreans settled in the UK, mostly near London, during the 1980s, which is only slightly be on the head end of when Harry and his peers would have been born.

Once again, Hermione acts on her own, doing something Harry doesn't like; I felt this kind of touch develops her as an independent character, rather than just as an extension of Harry the way she was used in the original books, and I felt it breathed more life into her as a character, since Harry was the one who told her how to make more friends, and yet he's the one isolating himself.

For context, Su-Jin Li's father is from North Korea, a country where corruption is rampant, and not South Korea, a country that has taken steps to fight corruption. There's a backstory there.

Once again, thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their hard work. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me.


	6. Knockturn in Black and Gold

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 6: Knockturn in Black and Gold**

* * *

The questions continued coming for a good fifteen minutes, with Harry answering the questions as best as he could while maintaining his cover; while it had mostly been straightforward, there were still a few inquiries that had made him stop for a moment to consider his response before giving one, though he did seem to manage to keep his answers within the realm of believability.

Once the cafe bill had been paid and everybody was ready to go, the group of three adults and five children entered Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron, Harry pulling up the balaclava he had been wearing around his neck up to his nose just before they set foot inside the pub; once they stepped foot in Diagon Alley, Harry glanced towards Patience and was amused to see her nonchalant expression.

"Not impressed?" Harry asked.

"It's very… Jules Verne," said the daywalker. "Very steampunk, minus the punk."

"It really is," Harry agreed.

"I'm not into it," Patience declared. "I was expecting something like the Renraku Arcology, but with more magic, so this is just kind of a letdown."

"I was the same way myself, actually," Harry said, nodding. "School we're going to's even worse; doesn't even have the steam, just the fantasy."

"Really? I'd like to see that sometime."

"Maybe something could be arranged…"

Then, to the others in the group, he said, "We should probably split up; Liv needs to get some basic stuff that you probably all already have, like a luggage case, and you all still have your own shopping to do."

"But you still haven't gotten this year's list," Hermione protested.

"Lee, do you have this year's list?" Harry asked. When the Korean-British girl nodded, he turned back towards his friend. "You can give me your list and you can use your roommate's."

Hermione begrudgingly handed Harry her list, and the Boy-Who-Lived quickly looked it over before handing it back, saying, "I already have all of this."

"You what now?" Su-Jin asked, surprised.

"Oh, right, you bought a copy of every book Flourish and Blotts had in stock," Hermione said, as Harry handed the list back. "I just thought you might be missing one or two."

"No, I got them all," Harry said. "Well, Liv, Pace and I are off to get some of the basics, when and where do you all want to meet up?"

"How about Florean Fortescue's in a few hours?" Neville suggested.

"You just want ice cream, don't you?" Hermione said.

"Can't blame him," Fay said. "I've kind of have the munchies too."

"We can do that, I guess," Harry said. "I'll see you all then."

"But what you going to do in the meantime?" Hermione asked. "It won't take more than an hour to get the basics."

"A bit of this and that," Harry said, the ghost of a smile flitting across his lips. "C'mon, Liv. Let's go."

**~ooOoo~**

Entering the luggage shop he had been to only twice before, Harry was greeted by an unfamiliar face at the counter; the young witch he had met the previous year was not present, replaced by a sharply dressed young man.

"Welcome to Llewellyn and Haig, your one-stop shop for enchanted bags, suitcases and trunks," he said. "How can I help you today?"

"I'd like to purchase two trunks, my young friend will need a satchel. and this beautiful young woman could do with a handbag, all with the usual enchantments," Harry said.

"Certainly, although I must warn you, the trunk and the satchel will be one hundred twenty Galleons each," said the shop attendant. "And the bag will be a hundred galleons."

"What's that in dollars?" Patience asked.

Harry glanced towards the dragon-in-girl's form. "Liv?"

"It'll be in the neighborhood of nine hundred sixty dollars," said the dragon after a moment of mental calculation.

"I can't afford to spend that much on a handbag!" the daywalker protested.

"I can, though," Harry said. "Consider it a gift from me to you."

"But we've only known each other for a week!"

"You're family now. Family's got to take care of their own."

Patience started to protest more, then stopped short when she felt Liv glare at her. "Well, for that much, the handbag better include a reach-around."

"It doesn't, but it weighs next to nothing and _is_ bigger on the inside," Harry said.

"Wait, bigger on the inside, like the TARDIS?" asked the daywalker.

"Exactly like the TARDIS."

"In that case, I could see why it'd be that expensive."

"I know, right?"

"But why?"

"Well, with the bag and what you can do on your own, you'd make for one hell of a courier. You'd have to buy passage through boats and planes, but you'd be able to protect whatever packages you'd get hired to transport almost better than anybody else who exists."

"You mean as a side gig?"

"Or as a main gig, if you decide you don't want to work construction."

"I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Jason could probably make some introductions for you, though, and it'd give you ample opportunities to travel, just like you said you wanted to."

"I need to think about it."

"You do that."

**~ooOoo~**

Harry had decided it was pointless to purchase the required uniform for Liv from Diagon Alley even before the trip, as the plain work robes he had purchased at Madam Malkin's the previous year were really little different than longcoats he could have acquired from any tailor in the normal world, except the quality of workmanship and material in Malkin's product was much worse than what he could buy in the normal world for the same price, and he was certain he could get the rest of the uniform replicated by a tailor for far cheaper than Malkin's asking price.

As for the pointed hat, he had worn it not even once during the entire year at Hogwarts, so he saw no need for Liv to purchase one.

Nonetheless, Liv still needed protective gloves and a winter cloak, even if her own skin was enough to provide her with protection against harm and the elements, to maintain her cover, but the Boy-Who-Lived was certain Madam Malkin's was not the only shop that sold such items.

There was also the question of the cauldron, set of vials, telescope set and brass scales that remained to be settled, but Harry too was certain the shops he had purchased those items from the previous year did not hold a monopoly on school supplies.

It was with this in mind that Harry had made inquiries by owl the previous day before the game Patience was hosting, and the replies were what brought Patience, Liv and him to Knockturn Alley, and more specifically, to the generically named Wizarding Supplies.

Unlike the storefronts in Diagon Alley, the businesses in Knockturn were small and dingy, like they had not been properly cleaned and maintained in years, and the lack of general foot traffic evident at first glance was likely the main reason why. Dirt and refuse caked the cracked and worn cobblestones, further evidence of the absence of upkeep.

The inside of Wizarding Supplies was cramped and dusty, more akin to a pawnbroker's than the general merchandise stores the boutiques on Diagon Alley resembled. At the counter was a bored-looking middle-aged witch thumbing through a newspaper; as the daywalker, the dragon and the Hermetic mage entered through the front door, she looked up languidly with a yawn, only to snap to attention when the boy pulled the balaclava down from his face.

"You're Harry Potter," she said.

"Yes, I am," said the Hermetic mage.

"I recognized you from the piece in yesterday's _Daily Prophet_," the witch continued, babbling, rushing out from behind the counter to shake the Boy-Who-Lived's hand. "Never in a thousand years did I dream Harry Potter would be in my shop."

Then, she had a moment to collect her wits.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, seeing this is Wizarding Supplies, getting wizarding supplies for my daughter," Harry said.

"But what are you doing _here_?"

"I just said…"

"I meant in Knockturn Alley."

"What about Knockturn Alley?"

"It's not a place for innocent children to wander."

"If you recognize me from the _Prophet_, then you've probably read the piece," Harry said, smiling tightly as he did so. "Tell me, did I sound like an innocent child?"

The witch considered the Boy-Who-Lived for a moment, then shook her head. "Well, then, what wizarding supplies do you want to buy?" she asked.

Harry dug a list out of his pocket and pressed it into the hands of the witch, who still had one of his clasped in both of hers; it was a copy of the items from his from the first year letter, sans textbooks and robes.

The witch read over the list in a moment, then looked back at the Hermetic mage. "You could buy all of this in Diagon Alley," she said.

"I made inquiries and was told I could find them cheaper here," the boy responded.

"That is true," the witch admitted. "Will the gloves and cloak be for her?"

"Yes."

"If you give me a few minutes, I can gather these things for you," the witch offered.

"That works for me," Harry said. "I hope you don't mind if I browse while you go find them."

"Please, be my guest."

As the middle-aged woman hustled off to fill the list, Harry looked around; Patience and Liv were already wandering the store, talking quietly amongst themselves, and Harry took the time to carefully look around.

A thin layer of dust that had settled onto most of the inventory, like it hadn't been cleaned or even touched in a long while, and, combined with the witch's bored behavior when he, Patience and Liv had first entered the store, Harry guessed Wizarding Supplies was not exactly a profitable venture for the witch, and a business idea began to bubble in his mind.

When the witch returned with the items on the list, Harry implemented his plan of attack.

"I don't have any dragon or basilisk skin gloves in stock, but I do have manticore skin gloves, and manticore skin is almost as good as dragon or basilisk skin for protective gloves," said the witch, as she stacked the items from the list on the counter.

"They'll do," Harry said. "Any reason why you don't have dragon or basilisk skin gloves?"

"It's hard to justify having them in sitting on the shelf when I don't have a lot of customers."

"How long as business been down?" asked the boy, as he paid for the purchase in gold pieces.

"Nearly a decade," the witch admitted. "Had I not inherited the shop and the property it sits on from family, I could not afford to run it, but as it stands, I live upstairs and I only have to make a few sales each day to get by."

"But what if business picked up?"

"Then I'd be able to restock the inventory and even hire some help," said the witch. "But that's not going to happen; Knockturn Alley is a place where businesses die unless they are related to dark artefacts or the practice of dark arts."

"Don't be so sure about that," Harry said thoughtfully. Then, "How much would it cost me to become an almost entirely silent partner in this business?"

"Weren't you listening? I can barely make ends meet, and that's without having to pay rent."

"I heard you," said the Hermetic mage.

"Why would you want to invest your Galleons into my shop?"

"I'd rather do that than just have my gold sit in a vault, doing nothing."

"But you would just be wasting your Galleons!"

"Don't be so sure," said the boy with a slight smile. "I've got a strategy in mind. So, how much?"

The witch considered the proposition for a moment, clearing fiddling with a number in her head, before finally saying, "Twenty-five thousand Galleons."

Harry considered the number for a moment, then nodded. "I probably don't have that many gold pieces on me, but if we over to Gringotts and settle up the paperwork, I'd be happy to transfer the sum to your accounts."

"Are you sure? We've only just met."

"Well, if we get an agreement notarized, I don't see why not," Harry said. "And if business suddenly booms, we'll both benefit from it."

"When you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

"That's what I thought."

"I can close up shop for the day; I don't think I'm likely to get many additional customers today, and if this opportunity is as good as you say it is, a few missed customers would be a price worth paying," said the witch. Then, she suddenly realized something. "I'm Letitia Price."

"Harry Potter, but you already knew that. Shall we go?"

**~ooOoo~**

"So, what's this big plan of yours?" Letitia asked, as she, Patience, Liv and Harry exited Gringotts Wizarding Bank; the agreement the two had written and signed had been a simple one: in exchange for his investment of twenty-thousand gold pieces in Wizarding Supplies, Harry would receive a full ten percent of the business' sum profits, should it earn any, in perpetuity. Gringotts had been happy to provide witnesses and even notarize the agreement, albeit for a hefty sum, as was their way, and Harry had grudgingly paid the fees, believing the profit that would come of the business would eventually outstrip the initial cost.

Only after the ink (and blood) on the agreement had dried was gold exchanged between Harry Potter and Letitia Price.

"You'll see," Harry said with a slight smile. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to visit the offices of the _Daily Prophet_. I have a little bit of business to conduct."

"Tread carefully with Rita Skeeter," warned the middle-aged witch. "Her bark is worse than… well, her bark is poison."

"I plan to be," Harry said. "But it's good to have a journo in your pocket."

"Is that what she is?"

"For now."

A beat followed.

"You might want to stock up on things, though, because, for you, drek is about to hit the fans."

**~ooOoo~**

"I'm Harry Potter, and Wizarding Supplies is my favorite general store in all of Magical Britain."

Hermione Granger felt her mouth drop in shock at the front page advert in Wednesday morning's issue of the _Daily Prophet_. It was definitely Harry in the photograph, standing in front of a small, dingy store with an askew sign that read "Wizarding Supplies".

"Harry?" Hermione asked the photo.

"Located on ambiance-rich Knockturn Alley, Wizarding Supplies is where _I_ go to buy all the things I need for the school year when I don't want to have my mokeskin pouch gouged by the shops on Diagon," Harry-in-the-photograph narrated. "With its wide variety of items and reasonable prices, I was able to buy everything I needed for Hogwarts, and even a few things for around the house, for just a fraction of what it would have cost me shopping Diagon Alley.

"So come to Wizarding Supplies today. Your mokeskin pouch will thank you."

"Harry?" Hermione asked again.

"I'm Harry Potter, and Wizarding Supplies is my favorite general store in all of Magical London," started the Harry Potter in the photograph again.

Hermione Granger found herself rubbing her forehead, wondering what kind of scheme her best friend had gotten himself into this time.

**~ooOoo~**

From where he was hidden in the shadows of an alleyway a hundred feet away, the hood of his cloak pulled up over his head and a balaclava hiding the bottom half of his face, Harry observed Knockturn Alley's sudden increase in foot traffic and watched dozens of shoppers enter Wizarding Supplies empty-handed and leave carrying bags laden with purchases.

Wednesday was the perfect day to run the advert; it gave Letitia a day to order goods to refresh her inventory and a day for it to be delivered, plus it would piggyback on the signage he had seen outside Flourish and Blotts advertising a promotion where a famous author was making an appearance to sign copies of his new book.

It seemed the word of the Boy-Who-Lived carried weight.

"So, what was the lesson here?" he asked Liv, who had been crouched in the alley next to him, as they exited the back street and headed back towards Diagon Alley.

"People will believe their idols, even when there's no actual proof what they're saying is true."

"You're goddamn right."

"What's the plan, then?"

"Ideally, parlay the success of Wizarding Supplies into a few more silent partnerships."

"Wouldn't repeating the trick will make it less effective?"

"Certainly true, but we can always run variations that are less blatant. Personal appearances, for example, or a more localized campaign, if the storefront is already in a high-traffic area."

"We? When did I get involved?"

"You have a reputation as my daughter, which makes you kind of famous in to these people."

"And what do I get out of it?"

"Presumably, a cut of the profits, if the shop is willing to pay you to endorse them."

"That'll be good. It's sad that you can't do much in this world without money."

They stopped a half-block away from Flourish and Blotts at the sight of the raucous, mostly-female crowd gathered there.

Harry hurriedly checked his watch, then swore under his breath. He had not expected the crowd to gather so early, and he had no desire to try to wade through a throng of young women.

"We should go," Liv said matter-of-factly. Pointing in the other direction, she added, "That way."

All Harry could do was nod in agreement.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** More of people just not being impressed; I wrote Karen in _Hermetic Arts _as being in awe of Diagon Alley, but, honestly, I think my own personal reaction would be more in line with Patience's, where, if you're familiar with _Shadowrun_ and the supernatural, you kind of expect tech and magic to go hand-in-hand and not just have magic stop the development of technology.

Same shop, different clerk, different shopping experience. I wanted to highlight how, when you got to a shop you haven't been to a while and the service person is different, it sometimes feels like a completely different experience than before.

Harry calling Patience "family" might seem weirdly out of character, but just remember this this version of Harry includes manipulative con artist elements in his repertoire, and Patience has emphasized her feelings of being alone and without a place in the world.

I'm basing my analysis of the apparel for Hogwarts on what was presented in the films, and, from that, I do think you could get better uniforms from a normal tailor at a lower price. I mean, there are certain assumptions made based on the fact the Weasleys had to pass their robes down from brother to brother and the Weasleys dealing only in Wizarding currency, but it made me think a set of uniforms would not be paid for in the realm of bronze pieces, and silver was worth about 4 USD per ounce in 1992. Given it was established in _Hermetic Arts_ the gold pieces were about 34 ounces each, and silver pieces were shown to be only slightly smaller, I'd estimate a uniform would run at least 100 dollars based on the idea it would cost more than one silver piece. Sure, clothes made by normal tailors might not have the magical stuff woven into it, but then again, it won't have magical stuff woven into it, and Harry's basically replacing his own wardrobe as well anyways since he's a growing boy, so it would make sense financially to go from getting robes from Diagon Alley to just getting a few tailored coats and maybe some off-the-rack garments that look close enough to the Hogwarts uniforms to pass a cursory inspection. Besides, Harry in a longcoat completely fits his cyberpunk sensibilities.

I wanted this version of Harry to go into Knockturn Alley like he originally did in _Chamber of Secrets_, but to do it proactively, as that fits his character much better than the way the original Harry was passive in the story, so when I found Wizarding Supplies in the Fandom Wiki and thought, "now that's a place to buy school stuff from, since it sounds generic enough".

I know there are people dislike the "Gringotts is a concierge bank" trope, but I would like to point out that many banks in the real world have notaries on staff, or can otherwise direct you to one.

If photographs in the magical society could move, and paintings could talk, I extrapolated that there certainly must be a way to make talking photographic advertisements in newspapers, particularly if they only need to be able to repeat a few lines, in order, and not have to respond in any other way. Plus, I love _Mass Effect_, so I'm glad I got the chance to reference it in the story; however, Harry specifically specifies "general store" because, unlike Shepard, he's not going to go around the Citadel recording adverts for every store and calling it his "favorite"; always weirded me out that you could, as Shep, endorse all of the stores, and call all of them their "favorite", because, at that point, surely customers might see through Shep's bullshit.

I don't understand why people will listen to celebrity endorsements of products; for the most part, they're not experts on the thing they're endorsing, so why should their opinion matter? That said, Harry would certainly be smart enough to take advantage of the concept.

Rowling never cared about money, just wanted Harry to have enough so spending it doesn't become an issue; I, however, care about money, and so does this version of Harry, because he grew up in deprivation, so he knows money can get him things, which makes it important to him. It's also a lesson that Liv's learned a bit of from working at Jade Garden. See? Harry getting a summer job (and Liv getting one too) was important.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their hard work. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me.


	7. Mayhem, Wildfire and Overdrive

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 7: Mayhem Rook, Pixie Wildfire and Pilgrim Overdrive**

* * *

Harry kept sneaking glances at Neville's face as they walked through the High Street; by his own admittance, this was only Longbottom's second time venturing beyond the magical world, his only previous experience being the meeting at the Soykaf Source, and the Gryffindor boy clung tightly to the arm of the brown-haired Gryffindor girl walking next to him, the knuckles of his fingers white from just how hard he was holding on to her.

"What's that?" asked the Gryffindor boy for the fifth time in as many minutes, as they walked past a lingerie shop.

Faye saw the direction the chubby boy was pointing and her cheeks flushed, hurrying along without answering Neville's question.

Karen, who was accompanying them on her day off, was not too embarrassed to answer.

"That is a négligée," she told the chubby boy.

"What's a négligée do?" Neville asked.

"It something a lady wears for her lover, to show him she loves him."

Suddenly, the Gryffindor boy's face turned bright red.

It was at that time that the group reached their destination: Tandy.

The electronics shop was a whole new wonderland for the boy who had practically never left the comfort of the magical world before, and he fed a nonstop stream of questions to the girl he was clinging on to; for her part, Fay did her best to entertain Neville's questions, but without much knowledge of consumer electronics herself, her answers were general at best.

Knowing what he was looking for, Harry went directly to the nearest sales clerk, a gangly young man who could not have been far out of his teenage years, letting his companions wander around the shop as he went about making his purchase.

"I'm looking to purchase a set of portable two-way radios," Harry told the clerk.

The young man eyed the boy for a moment, then pointed dismissively towards one of the aisles. "Toy walkie talkies are over there."

"That's not what I'm looking for," growled the Boy-Who-Lived. "I need something capable of operating on at least three separate channels, with a range of at least a mile. A long battery life is preferable, and the set needs to have at least eight radios, though twelve would be ideal."

"Kid, you couldn't afford something like that, so stop wasting my time." the clerk said.

The Hermetic mage considered the clerk for a moment, then decided it was the clerk's loss and went looking for another one. After a few minutes, he found another sales clerk, a woman who looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties.

"Hi! How can I help you?" she asked brightly as Harry approached her.

"I'm looking to buy a set of portable two-way radios with a range of at least a mile that operate on at least three separate. A long battery life would be ideal," said the boy. "Do you have anything like that in stock?"

"Certainly," said the salesperson with a smile. "If you'll come this way, I can show you to them."

Following the clerk down the aisle, Harry finally found himself staring at a variety of products and suddenly found himself at a loss; though he had done some research on two-way radios before going to Tandy, the ranges of choices left him without a clear idea of which he wanted to purchase.

Seeing the indecision of the boy's face, the clerk asked, "What do you need them for?"

"My friends and I are going on a school trip at a pretty big castle for the next two weeks," Harry lied to the clerk. "Since we're probably going to go exploring a lot, I thought it'd be nice to have a way to keep in touch while we're all over the castle, in case one of us finds something cool we could show each other."

"How about these?" suggested the clerk, taking a large box off the shelf to show the boy. "It's a set of twenty, comes pre-programmed with sixteen channels, and has a range of up to three miles. They also come with a push-to-talk feature, so you're not always broadcasting the sound around you. The battery life is only eight to twelve hours, but they come with enough charging bases that you can charge them all at the same time, and they come pre-charged, so you can start using them right out of the box if you need to."

"I'll take them," Harry said.

"Are you sure?" asked the clerk. "They're quite expensive."

Harry gave the woman a glance that spoke volumes, and she hurried to the counter to ring up the purchase.

**~ooOoo~**

The jeweler's was two shops down the High Street from Tandy, and was the second stop on the trip, a necessary stop due to Neville lacking a single pence in his name.

The shop's proprietor, a rotund man with greying hair and a thin nose, was closely examining the gold piece Neville had shown him with a jeweler's loupe, turning it over repeatedly in hand as he did so, before finally setting it down on the glass counter.

"I'll pay fifty pounds for the coin," said the jeweler, his thin and nasally. "Fifty each, if you have more."

Neville looked to Fay for help, and she started to speak, but Harry interrupted.

"Fifty?" scoffed the Hufflepuff. "I can get more than four times that on the black market."

"Then go to the black market," the jeweler.

Harry was about to argue when, on the edge of his hearing, he heard the entry alert chime, and was suddenly driven to full alertness by Liv's voice.

"Contact!"

Instinctively, Harry spun in the direction of the door, his training taking over as he reached into his haversack and drew the submachine gun he kept there; in tight quarters, the MP5 was his best option, certainly a better choice than his assault rifle or shotgun, the latter being a poor choice in a storefront of any kind, and one full of glass cases in particular. Unfolding the stock with his left hand while the other brought it up so he was looking down the red dot sight in one smooth motion, the Boy-Who-Live spotted two men wearing balaclavas and track suits, carrying handguns and duffel bags, clearly robbers if he had ever seen any.

Seeing the two children with firearms pointed at them, ready to fire, the would-be robbers stopped dead in their tracks.

"Kid, put that thing down before you hurt somebody," said one of the robbers patronizingly to Liv, extending a hand out as though to try to calm her down.

The dragon didn't answer in words; instead, there was the sound of her pistol's action cycling, and the robber cried out in pain, crumpling as hot lead perforated his left knee.

"That's kind of the point," said the dragon-in-girl's-form over the curses of the fallen robber.

"Nuh-uh," said Harry, as other robber started to pivot towards Liv, finger audibly tightening on the trigger. "Put down the gun, slowly, or I'll put two in your chest and one in your head."

"Jesus," said the still-standing robber raising both hands to show he was surrendering. Carefully, he lowered his weapon to the floor, setting it down lightly.

"Now slide it over to me with your foot," said the Hermetic mage, and the robber complied. "Now, your wallet."

"What?" asked the robber, clearly surprised.

"Your wallet," Harry reiterated, growling from the back of his throat as he stepped forward aggressively.

"Alright, alright!" said the man, reaching into his pocket and taking out a worn billfold, which he tossed to the boy.

Harry caught it with one hand, flipping it open without moving the muzzle of his submachine gun away from the man. "Kyle Jenkins," he said, using his thumb to pull the man's identification card from the clear sleeve it was in before throwing just the wallet back to him. "I'm keeping this," the Boy-Who-Lived told the would-be robber, before adding, "I know where you live."

"You, you're going to take your friend, and you're going to leave," Liv said to the robber she hadn't shot. "You can take him to casualty, a veterinarian, a street doc… I don't care. But you didn't try to rob this place today, and we've never, ever met. Clear?"

"Crystal," agreed the robber.

After the unharmed robber helped his kneecapped friend out of the jeweler's and into a waiting white panel van that quickly drove off, Harry and Liv stowed their firearms before taking possession of the ones the robbers left behind.

The entire incident took less than five minutes to resolve.

Turning back towards the jeweler, who had spent the entirety of the attempted robbery hiding behind the counter, Harry rapped lightly on the glass. "You were saying?"

"I'll give you one hundred fifty pounds for each coin," said the jeweler. At the sharp look the Hufflepuff gave him, he winced and amended his statement. "One seventy-five; look, you might have stopped a robbery, but I still need to turn a profit."

The Boy-Who-Lived nodded at Neville, who reached into the pouch around his neck and retrieved a fistful of gold pieces, setting them down on glass, where they clattered to a rest.

As the jeweler counted the coins and then bills onto the counter, Harry watched him like a hawk, making sure the Gryffindor was not cheated.

Once the transaction was successfully completed, Harry leaned heavily on the counter, and the jeweler swallowed hard.

"We were never here, you never did business with us," he said, and the jeweler nodded rapidly.

As they stepped out of the store, Harry found himself nodding in time with his own whistling of "Back in Black" to himself.

It was going to be one of those days.

**~ooOoo~**

"You have a gun!"

Harry had avoided Hermione as best as he could for the last hour, using small talk and careful body positioning to force her to stew in her questions and thoughts, but now they were in a Booker Wholesale parking lot, and he couldn't really avoid her any more.

"You have a gun!" the Ravenclaw reiterated. "And you threatened somebody with it! That's against the law!"

"What's the problem here?" Harry asked. "It's not the first time you've seen me break the law, and you've seen me do far worse."

The bushy-haired girl considered the sentiment for a moment, then sighed. "How did you even manage to get your hands on guns?" she asked.

"Smuggled them in from the States," Harry said nonchalantly.

"You make breaking the law sound so easy."

"It was incredibly easy," the Hufflepuff said. "Just stuck them in my bag, put all that under a coat, and walked it right through customs."

"That is… ludicrously simple," Fay said.

"Oh, I know," Harry agreed. "That's why I suggest to Pace she start a side business as an international courier."

"You didn't," said the Ravenclaw, looking mortified.

"I certainly did. I even suggested she ask Jason for introductions if she needs them."

By now, Harry had finished taking apart the box and packaging; once he shared a look with the dragon, Liv grabbed the cardboard, Styrofoam and plastic and ambled off, returning a moment later after disposing of the packaging in a wheelie bin.

Quickly, he handed off two-way radios to his companions and stowed the rest in his haversack, then pressed the push-to-talk button on the one in his hand, speaking into it. "Radio check."

"Radio check," echoed the radios in his companions hands.

"All right, that's good," Harry said. Holding up the device, he moved his thumb over the button that activated its transmit function. "This is the push-to-talk button," he explained. "Press it before speaking into your walkie talkie, or you won't transmit your message."

"Basic keywords you'll need to know: 'This is', 'over', 'out', 'roger', 'wilco', 'say again', 'read back', 'correction' and 'radio check'

"'This is' is used to identify the caller; it is always used after the receiver has been named. So, if I was calling Hermione, for example, I'd say, 'Hermione, this is Harry', not 'this is Harry, calling Hermione' or 'Harry to Hermione' or any other variation.

"'Over' means 'this is the end of the transmission, and response is required'. This differs from 'out', which means 'this is the end of the transmission, and no response is needed'.

"'Roger' means 'I received your last transmission', and can also mean 'yes'.

"'Wilco' means 'will comply'; if you respond with 'wilco', 'roger' is unnecessary.

"'Say again' is used to ask for clarification of the previous transmission; 'read back' is for the speaker to ask the receiver to repeat the transmission's content back for clarity.

"'Correction' is used to fix a mistake in a transmission, and 'radio check' is used to check radio strength and readability; a scale of one to five is used in response, 'one' for bad and unreadable, 'two' for readable now and then, 'three' for readable with difficulty, 'four' for readable, and 'five' for perfectly readable."

As the three other children attempted the digest the information, Karen nudged Harry with an elbow. "I think they need an example," she said.

"That's fair," the Hufflepuff agreed.

"I've decided on my call sign," Liv announced suddenly.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Mayhem Rook."

"I like it," said Harry, before raising up one hand with fore and middle fingers extended, waving them around in a circle.

Liv stepped back, nodding, before raising the two-way radio towards her mouth.

*_beep_*

"Whiplash Hunter, this is Mayhem Rook. Radio check, over."

*_beep_*

"Mayhem Rook, this is Whiplash Hunter. I read you five by five, over."

*_beep_*

"Whiplash Hunter: roger. Out."

*_beep_*

"Mayhem Rook, this is Whiplash; I need you to park bike in fog, over."

*_beep_*

"Whiplash? Rook. Say again? Over."

*_beep_*

"Rook: bark like a dog. Over."

*_beep_*

"Whiplash Hunter: Wilco. Woof. Out."

A moment of silence followed as the Boy-Who-Lived and the dragon both looked at their companions, who stared at them with looks of surprise on their face.

Hermione spoke first. "You two have done this before," she said.

"Yes, at camp," Harry said.

"What's a call sign?" Fay asked.

"A call sign is a unique designator for identification purposes," Liv said.

"In our case, we're also using them to anonymize our identities, so if somebody is listening in, it doesn't easily give away who we are," Harry added.

"Don't you think that's a little much?" asked the Ravenclaw.

"You remember what happened during the incident with the Stone?" growled the Hermetic mage, his expression grim. "I don't think that's an isolated incident."

"I don't have a call sign yet," Hermione said.

"Actually, you do," Harry said. "It's your street name."

"Wells Danger?"

"Exactly."

"What about us?" Neville asked, meaning the two Gryffindors.

Harry considered the two for a moment. "Longbottom, you're Pilgrim Overdrive," he said. "Dunbar…"

"I want to be Liquid Wildfire," interjected the Gryffindor girl.

"How about Pixie Wildfire?" Harry suggested.

"Why not Liquid Wildfire?"

"Your call sign is also your street name," Harry explained. "If you ever want to give somebody a name to call you by without giving them your actual name, you can give them your street name. Note that each street name is at least two words; this is so either can part of your street name can be used to identify you in the middle of a sentence, like, 'Why don't you go out and see if you can't find something to get you Whiplash'. However, at least part of your street name needs to be able to pass as a plausible given name, surname or nickname.

"Besides all that, 'Fay' sounds like 'fae', another term for 'fairy', which a pixie is a type of."

"I could see why Liquid Wildfire wouldn't be a plausible name," Fay said. "I'll be Pixie Wildfire, then."

"All right, then," said the Hufflepuff.

"This would make me Princess Marilyn," Karen said conspiratorially, and the Hermetic mage nodded. "So, why are we here?"

"We're getting ingredients," Harry explained. "We're going to try making some recipes I gathered from staff working at Jade Garden."

"What are we getting?" Neville asked.

"Baker's chocolate, bittersweet chocolate, couverture chocolate, semi-sweet chocolate chips, cocoa powder, all purpose flour, bread flour, granulated sugar, confectioner's sugar, light and dark brown sugar, maple sugar, nutella, walnuts, coconut milk, coconut extract, shredded coconut, espresso powder, baking soda, baking powder, yeast, unflavored gelatin, whole milk, sweetened condensed milk, buttermilk, unsalted butter, cream cheese, mascarpone, shortening, vegetable oil, nonstick spray, heavy cream, cream of tartar, vanilla extract, vanilla bean, ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, star anise, clove, szechuan peppercorns, fennel seed, amaretto liqueur, bourbon, rum, sea salt, mint, carrots, apples, applesauce, oranges, lemons, limes, strawberries, watermelon, pineapple, disposable vinyl gloves, bleach, and paper towels," Harry said, checking a list he pulled out of his pocket.

"What are you, starting a bakery?" Karen asked.

"Something like that," said the Boy-Who-Lived with a shrug. "Or rather, Pilgrim will be."

"Pilgrim?" Neville asked.

"That's you," Fay said. "You're Pilgrim Overdrive."

"You're going to just start calling us by our street names, aren't you?" Hermione said. "You already call me 'Danger', and you just called Neville 'Pilgrim'."

"Guilty as charged," Harry said.

"Who does that make me, then?" Fay asked.

"You'd be Wildfire," said the Hufflepuff without even pausing.

"Not Pixie?"

"No, you're more of a Wildfire: fiery, unpredictable, dangerous, and a little bit wild and free."

"I like it."

"Then why am I Pilgrim?"

"You're still looking for something to give your life meaning."

"And I'm Danger because it rhymes with Granger."

"Sometimes, that's all it takes."

He didn't want to tell her it was also because she sometimes had the demeanor of a damsel in distress when situations got tough, because he imagined she would not react well to that, and he felt no need to antagonize his best friend.

Karen, who had been taking notes on the items Harry had listed, interrupted the banter.

"This is a lot of things," said the actress.

"That's why we have the radios," Harry said. "We're splitting up into two groups. Karen, you take Pilgrim and Wildfire; Liv and Danger, you're with me."

"Why does she get to be 'Liv'?" Fay asked.

"Her name's only one syllable."

"So's mine."

"We're not so close that I call you by name," Harry pointed out.

"We could be," the Gryffindor girl countered.

"Would you rather I called you 'Fay' instead of 'Wildfire'?"

There was a pregnant pause as Fay considered the question before responding. "Honestly, 'Wildfire' is a really cool nickname," she admitted. "And even 'Pixie' is kind of cool, like a nickname that's based my actual name, without an obvious one."

"I thought so too," Harry said.

"What if we can't find the things on the list?" Hermione asked.

"This is the wholesale market restaurants who don't get their ingredients delivered go to shop at," said the Hufflepuff. "If the ingredients can't be found here, they probably can't be purchased legally in Britain."

"Even if you get all these ingredients, where are you going to cook them?"

"I'll go to a Nesbits for the equipment," Harry said.

"You'll go where?" Karen asked.

"Nesbits," the Boy-Who-Lived repeated. "They specialize in restaurant equipment."

"You seem to know a lot about what it takes to start a restaurant," Hermione said. "How?"

"I asked Chef, and he asked a few of his British colleagues," Harry said. "Now, let's get started."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I felt that, for Neville, who grew up in the magical world, the normal would be just as incredible and amazing as the magical world was to Karen during her first visit to Diagon, particularly when experiencing a High Street for the first time.

Combined with a small detail from _Hermetic Arts_, I'm certain attentive readers can probably guess a future development involving Neville.

For my non-British readers, Tandy is the UK equivalent to Radio Shack. To those who don't know what that is, it's a consumer electronics and parts supplier.

There are so many shitty people working in customer service, particularly in sales.

Liv is starting to show Harry's influence, particularly his disregard for human life beyond those of him and his. That needs to change.

Negotiation only really works when the other party realizes they don't have many, if any, options. This applies to small scale things like haggling, as well as large-scale things like world affairs. Let's just say I don't believe in diplomacy that isn't backed with bringing the other side to the table because they realize you're capable of completely wiping them out.

Coercion with the threat of violence is against the law. Another thing to Harry's rap sheet, if you're keeping track.

In a place as large as Hogwarts castle, it only makes sense that Harry would want to be able to communicate with his people at all times, instead of arranging meetings the day before, hence the use of the two-way radios. It also was a way to introduce additional nicknames Harry will start calling his people in the future, as well as the use of procedural words to readers who aren't familiar with them and their use over radios, so this ended up as a bit of an educational and transitional chapter.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their hard work. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me.


	8. Kitchen Confidential

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 8: Kitchen Confidential**

* * *

"This… this is really amazing," Fay said, as she slowly turned in a full circle to take in her surroundings.

Harry looked around his portable industrial kitchen, really just a number of steel prep tables, sinks, industrial gas ranges and burners, convection ovens, steamers, grills and flat tops arranged in a manner he found convenient inside one of the magical trunks he purchased during his previous trip to Diagon Alley and then connected to a petrol-burning power generator and a truly massive tank of propane, along with shelf after shelf of various cookware, from sauté pans to stock pots to baking sheets, utensils ranging from offset spatulas to dough scrapers to measuring spoons and cups to digital scales, food storage containers, including hotel pans with accompanying covers and polycarbonate bins with matching lids, and an almost obscene amount of cleaning supplies, like bleach, quaternary sanitizer, industrial degreaser and neutral floor cleaner. Behind all of that was the stock of food he had procured for the coming school year, along with an enchanted cooler and ice box the size of commercial walk-in units and some modeled after the low boy refrigeration units at the Jade Garden's kitchen line area he had manufactured for the storage of perishables.

It had cost him in the tens of thousands of pounds to build the kitchen, but given its portability, Harry thought it a good investment, particularly when he could stow it in his haversack and carry it with him wherever he went. The only downside was the lack of a ventilator meant he had to keep the trunk open when cooking to avoid filling the kitchen with smoke and other fumes.

He had done something similar with his personal library of books, moving it shelf by shelf into the other trunk he had purchased the previous week with the help of the dragon who was his in-cover daughter; he liked the idea of having a library he could loan out, so putting it in a trunk separate of his haversack was the next step in putting it into practice.

"It's something," Harry said with a shrug. He had considered having commercial kitchen equipment installed in his safe house but had ultimately decided against it, since it would allow strangers into his home and he also would be away from it at least nine months of the year, making the investment impractical, since Karen herself rarely cooked.

"What are you cooking today?" Fay asked eagerly.

"Who said I'm the only one cooking?" Harry retorted, pulling a binder full of paper out of his haversack and dropping it onto one of the countertops.

"What?" Neville asked dumbly, clearly caught off guard and baked out of his mind.

"We discussed this last year when I sold you the cannabis seeds," said the Hufflepuff. "If you had a large enough harvest, you would consider selling some of it."

"But why are we in a kitchen?" asked the Gryffindor girl.

"You forgot about our conversation about edibles, didn't you?"

"What conversation?" Neville asked.

"About how you can cook dried cannabis buds into food and still get the same effect, without having to smoke it?"

"We talked about that?"

"Yes, we did."

"I don't remember talking about it."

"Neither do I," Fay agreed.

"Well, we had that talk," Harry said, "right after I gave you the seeds in return for twenty percent of any profits you made selling the product?"

There was a moment of silence as the two Gryffindors jogged their memories.

"Oh!" Fay said suddenly. "I remember now."

Neville shook his head. "I still don't."

"So, we're really doing this?" Neville asked after a beat.

"Do you plan on smoking it all yourself?"

"Well, no, there's too much for that…"

"Then let's make some money with it.

"But first, let's have lunch, so you're not tempted to eat all of the product."

With that, Harry pulled a large white cutting board out from under the nearest prep table with one hand, taking up a chef's knife with another, while Liv joined him with a cutting board and knife of her own, though, unlike Harry's, her knife only had a single bevel and the concave grind on the other side.

Going to the walk-in cooler, Liv returned a moment later with a filet of bright orange fish, a filet of deep red fish, and a filet of off-white fish on a parchment-lined baking sheet while Harry returned from the cooler with a portion of beef, several bottles of dark liquid, a smaller bottle of clear amber liquid, a shaker, two paper packages and two big polycarbonate bins filled with marinated meat; while the dragon set the filets on her cutting board, put on disposable vinyl gloves and began to carefully skin them, the Boy-Who-Live sliced the beef thinly with practiced cuts, tossing the results in a large polycarbonate container before adding small portions from the various bottles he had brought back to the prep table, then mixed it together with chopsticks.

"What're you making?" Fay asked, curiosity piqued.

"_Sashimi_," Liv said, "and _nigirizushi_."

"_Gon chow ngau ho_," said Harry simultaneously, washing the knife off in the sink with a sudsy sponge before wiping it dry with a towel, then put the cutting board into the sink and grabbing another one. "Chicken _karaage_, and _yu choy sum_."

"I don't know what those are," said the Gryffindor girl.

Neither Harry nor Liv stopped to expand their statements; instead, Liv carefully squared the fish into rectangular blocks, then carefully carved thick diagonal slices off each and placed them neatly on a plain white plate; once she had filled the plate, she slid it down the prep bench, where it came to a halt at the edge closest to the Gryffindors. A small plate of thin, dark brown liquid followed the plate of fish.

"Raw fish? Ewww," said Neville. "No thanks."

Fay swallowed nervously, but picked up a glistening piece of white fish between thumb and forefinger, gingerly lifting it from the plate and considering it with trepidation before popping it into her mouth, her eyes squeezed closed. Then, her eyes slowly widened in wonderment.

"It's so soft," she marveled as she chewed. "Buttery too, and a little tangy.

"What is it?"

"_Hamachi_," Liv said, as she used a wooden spatula to mix the rice she had pulled out of a rice cooker with a squeeze bottle of faintly yellow liquid in a large wooden basin, all while cooling it with a paper fan.

Meanwhile, Harry started a stockpot of water with a noodle basket hanging off it on a lit burner, then went back to the prep table, emptying the paper package into a large mixing bowl and revealing fine white powder. Putting on vinyl gloves, he opened the two quart container and dumped its contents, chunks of meat in a brown marinade, into a mixing bowl, dredging it quickly before carrying it over to the fryer and quickly dropping the breaded meat into the basket, which he held over a large, cylindrical trash can.

"What's this red one?" Fay asked, indicating the slices of deep red fish on the plate.

"_Maguro_," said the dragon, as she sliced remaining fish into portions similar to the _sashimi_, then began molding the rice from the basin into small loafs, lightly smeared a green paste onto each before delicately placing a piece of fish on each.

Nearby, Harry opened the other two quart container and began spooning the mixture in it into the other fryer basket with an ice cream scooper; once he had filled it, he unhooked it and the previously filled basket from the edge of the fryer, dropping them into the oil, which immediately began to hiss and bubble, then slapped the electronic timer stuck to the oven next to the fryer.

Going into the walk-in cooler, the Hufflepuff emerged a moment later with a bag of leafy green vegetables, which he took over to the sink to wash, with the water in the stockpot reaching a rolling boil as he finished the washing. Tearing apart a plastic package, he emptied the wide, translucent off-white noodles it contained into a noodle basket, which he submerged into the steaming water, then slapped another timer.

"What is this?" Fay asked, as Liv placed a plate of fish on rice in front of her.

"_Nigirizushi_," said the dragon, crossing over to the fryer as the timer started beeping, lifting the baskets from the oil and hooking them on the side to drip dry, slapping the timer to make the alarm stop. Harry arrived a moment later, carrying a large, clear bin in his arms.

Setting the container on the table across from the stove, the Hermetic mage said to the dragon, "Ice bath."

Liv snapped her fingers, and the bin was instantly filled to the top with ice. Another snap of the finger, and the ice was suddenly floating in water.

"_Domo_," said the Boy-Who-Lived, as another timer started beeping.

Quickly, the Hufflepuff crossed to the pot, retrieving the noodle basket and giving it a good shake before hurrying back to the ice bath, dunking the basket and its contents into the bin. Then, he put the greens he had washed into a separate noodle basket and carried it back to the pot of boiling water, submerging it before turning off the timer and turning it back on.

Taking a wok and a matching ring from his shelves of cookware, Harry lit another burner and put the cooking vessel on it; as it heated, he washed a bag of bean sprouts and several green onions separately in a colander, cutting the latter ingredient into large pieces. Once done, he went back to the ice bath, taking out the noodles and hanging them up to drip back into the bin.

Once he finished, he ladled oil into the wok, gave it a moment to heat, then dumped the marinated beef into the wok, quickly breaking it up with a long-handled spatula. After a moment, he took the noodle basket, which had mostly dripped dry, and emptied its contents into the wok, scrambling it together with beef.

Without a word, Liv went to the shelves of large squeeze bottles filled with various sauces, taking a moment to find the one she was looking for before taking it from where it sat, turning and slinging it at the cooking boy, who caught it with one hand without looking. Squirting some into the wok, causing it to spatter and steam as it mixed it together with the beef and noodles, he tossed it back to the dragon, who put back on the shelf, then went to the boiling pot, pulling the basket of greens from it and taking it to the ice bath, which she dunked it into, before going back to the fryer and dropping both baskets back into the hot oil.

Turning off the heat, Harry reached behind him, taking the colanders of green onions and bean sprouts, emptying them into the wok and quickly tossing the contents with the help of the spatula, letting the residual heat cook the vegetables before unloading the wok onto the large plate the dragon had set down on the table behind him, creating a considerable portion suited more for ten people than four.

Carrying the wok over to the sink, Harry grabbed a second one and put it on the wok-ring, starting the burner back up. While Liv scooped rice into bowls and carried them to the dining table with chairs situated around it where she had already placed the _sashimi_ and _nigirizushi_, Harry splashed a golden brown oil into the pan, then dropped the greens into the wok, tossing quickly it with a fresh spatula before plating it and pouring a thick dark sauce over it.

Taking up the plate, the Hufflepuff took it and the one with the beef and noodles to the dining table before going back to the fryer, lifting both baskets out of the oil and hanging them off the side of the fryer to let them drip for a moment before emptying each into a separate large metal mixing bowl lined with sheets of kitchen paper, which he carried over the table, along with a fistful of eating utensils.

"Sit," Harry said. "Eat."

That was all the invitation that was needed; Liv plopped herself into a chair in front of a bowl of rice piled almost comically high, while the Gryffindors took seats alongside each other, across from the dragon-in-girl-form.

"_Itadakimasu_," said the dragon, taking two spoons and using them like tongs to heap more than half the noodles, beef, green onions and bean sprouts onto her own plate. Then, picking up chopsticks, she helped herself to the fried meat, adding a truly enormous pile to a second plate, before filling a third plate with _nigirizushi_ and _sashimi_.

"That's a lot of food," Fay said.

"I'm hungry," Liv said flatly, before shoveling _gon chow ngau ho_ into her mouth, followed by a mouthful of rice and several greens from the communal plate.

"This is really good," Neville said, between mouthfuls of fried food. "So fluffy. What is it?"

"There's chicken and _nankotsu_ _karaage_," said the Hufflepuff.

"Say what now?" asked the Gryffindor girl, swallowing before speaking.

"Japanese-style fried chicken and chicken cartilage."

Silence descended over the table as the foursome ate quietly, punctuated only by the crunch of fried chicken being eaten and the sound of Liv slurping down noodles and otherwise inhaling the food on her plate before going back for more.

"That was really delicious," said Neville, after the plates were emptied and cleared from the table.

"You could start a restaurant," Fay agreed.

"What's that?" asked the Gryffindor boy.

"What's what?"

"What's a 'restaurant'?"

Fay, Harry and Liv shared a look.

"A restaurant is a place where people go to, to eat and drink something cooked by somebody else," Fay explained.

"Why don't they just have house-elves make their food?"

"What's a 'house elf'?" Liv asked.

"A magical being that's basically an _unseen servant_, except corporal, visible and much more versatile in what it can do," Harry answered, thinking back to his reading. "Pretty small too."

"So, what are we making today?" Fay asked.

Harry opened up the binder, flipping through it quickly before coming to a stop to open, extracting a stack of pages from it and placing them on the table. "Four different types of chocolate brownies, three different cookies and six kinds of cupcakes."

The Gryffindor girl picked up one of the pages, a sheet of paper, covered in words written in a loopy, flowing script, encased in transparent page protector.

"You didn't write this."

"I did not."

"Where did you get these recipes?"

"From Tori."

"What's a Tori?" Neville asked.

"Tori's a who, and she's a waitress at the restaurant who loves to bake and is going to pastry school to be a pastry chef," Harry explained. "She was more than happy to share her recipes with me."

"What's the difference between the brownies?" Fay asked.

"One's cakey, one's fudgey, one's got caramel in it, and the other, whiskey."

"And the cupcakes?"

"We'll be doing three classics—a basic vanilla cupcake with vanilla buttercream, a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting and a chocolate cake with a cream cheese filling and frosting, topped with chocolate chips—and three gourmet ones: an apple pie cupcake, a chocolate-pineapple-and-rum cupcake, and a cupcake Tori calls a 'chocolate-mocha bomb'.

"As for the cookies, before you ask, one's the classic chocolate chip cookie, one's a soft-baked gourmet cookie with smoked butter and salt, and dark couverture chocolate buttons, and the third's a soft snickerdoodle."

"They all sound yummy," Neville said. "Can we get started on this so we can try some soon?"

**~ooOoo~**

"I never knew to crack eggs into a separate bowl first," Fay said, as she bit into a cookie. "Wow, this is really delicious."

"It really is," Harry agreed. "The smoke gives it a nice, complex flavor."

"You know, I never thought about weighing out the ingredients, instead of using cups to measure them," Fay continued. "There's just so much I don't know about cooking, even though I help my mum sometimes."

Neville was too busy stuffing his face with brownies and cupcakes to say anything.

"So, when you're making any of these recipes for sale, just add four grams of dried cannabis buds, cleaned and ground into a powder, along with the rest of the dry ingredients, and you'll have edibles," the Boy-Who-Lived said.

"Neville and I will be making them, I take it?" Fay asked.

"Yes."

"We don't have a kitchen."

"You can use mine."

"What about ingredients?"

"We'll send out for them."

"How much are we going to sell them for?"

"Six silver pieces for a dozen of the basic cupcakes and twelve-a-dozen for the gourmet ones," Harry said. "For smaller orders, three for a half-dozen or one silver piece for two of the basic ones, or one-to-one on the apple pie, chocolate-pineapple-rum or the chocolate-mocha bomb. For the brownies, they should be sold at one silver piece each, and the cookies should go for three silver for a dozen of the chocolate chip and snickerdoodles, and nine silver for a dozen of the gourmet cookies."

"I think we should make some of what we're selling plain, without the cannabis, for people who just want something to eat," Fay suggested.

"That's probably a good idea, actually," Harry said. "We could leave the cookies and the vanilla cupcakes plain, then."

"And if somebody wants something special, something that's not on the menu?"

"Tell them to you'll need to think it over before you take the order, then we can talk about before deciding if we want to actually do it."

"You know, I don't think Neville really cares about the money end of this," Fay said.

"I really don't," the Gryffindor boy agreed.

"Thought as much," Harry agreed. "I guess that means you'll be in charge of all of the day-to-day business while he just grows and cures the plant and helps with the baking."

"I'll try to keep him from eating all the product."

"I'm right here!" Neville protested, even as he bit into another cupcake.

"That's a good idea; we _are_ trying to run a business here."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I named this chapter in honor of the late Anthony Bourdain. He was a huge influence on the way I perceived food and the people who cooked it professionally, and he wasn't wrong to say that people who choose careers in professional kitchens have personality flaws that prevent them from working in any other environment. I'm unfortunately one of those people. Rest in peace, Mister Bourdain.

Of course Harry would build himself a commercial/industrial kitchen. Hell, I'm not rich, and if I had a chance, I'd love to outfit my home with commercial-grade kitchenware; it'd make my life so much easier when it comes to food prep.

No, there's no _bag of holding_ inside _bag of holding_ problems here.

It's the return of food porn, and along with that, two recipes practically anybody can make if they can get the ingredients, one for chicken _karaage_ and one for _yu choy sum_.

To make chicken _karaage_, cut boneless, skinless chicken thighs (and that's important, so don't try to substitute breast meat for it) into bite-size pieces, making 4-6 similarly-sized pieces per thigh, then marinade in soy sauce, cooking sake, ginger and garlic (I use ground for the last two, but mince or grated also work fine) for fifteen to twenty minutes (but no more than that, so it doesn't become overly salty). Dredge the marinated chicken in potato starch (necessary for the fluff), then deep fry for five minutes, before dumping it out into a bowl lined with paper towel, letting sit for 1-2 minutes, then deep frying it for another 5 minutes. Serve hot.

As for _yu choy sum_, carefully wash the _choy sum_ (available in many Chinese markets) three times to remove the dirt, stripping away the flowering parts if you so desire (I find them texturally unpleasant), then blanch in a pot of boiling water that's had a tablespoon of oil added for thirty seconds before shocking it in an ice bath. Drain well, plate and then dress in oyster sauce before serving.

I noticed that, after working in a professional kitchen, it affected the cuisine I cooked at home; although I originally primarily cooked Cantonese cuisine at home (as I'm originally from Hong Kong), after working in a Japanese restaurant, my diet moved much more towards Japanese food, so I used that as a reference as to Harry's changing culinary tastes, as he worked in a Chinese-Japanese restaurant in Jade Garden. Since Liv can replicate anything by watching, I thought it only appropriate she would have picked up some cooking as well, even if she primarily worked as a server during her tenure at the restaurant, especially for things like sushi, which is often prepared in plain view of customers.

_Hamachi_ is a wonderful fish to eat raw or cooked; even the bloodline is delicious if seared. _Maguro_ is tuna.

Of course Harry and Liv use magic for cooking, because this was secretly a gourmet cooking story all along. Bait and switch, bwahahaha! (Not really.) (But really, I actually have a gourmet plot bunny that I've been nurturing where Harry is obsessed with food and its preparation, and only goes to Hogwarts because he wants to use magic to help with his cooking and for no other reason, so all of his adventures are food-focused, such as Philosopher's Stone as a seasoning, basilisk as a cooking ingredient, feeding dementors things besides memories, etc. Every chapter would include something being cooked, and an accompanying recipe.)

I wanted this chapter to read a lot of like watching a food porn TV show, hence the descriptive narrative of how Harry and Liv cook. Not sure if that turned out the way I wanted.

Since rich people in the magical world have house elves do their cooking, I figured there wouldn't really be restaurants in the magical world, hence Neville's ignorance.

The cookies, brownies and some of the cupcakes were inspired by the ones made in the "4 Levels" video series on the Epicurious Youtube channel; I feel like it combined some basic stuff with some really fancy stuff, which really suits the kind of business Harry would want, with the variety catering to both the basic bitches and those who like the good stuff. The rest of cupcakes were taken from the Flavor Cupcakery and Bake Shop menu. Thus, unfortunately, I do not have exact recipes for any of the baked items.

Yes, always crack your eggs into a separate bowl first; you don't want pieces of shell accidentally getting into whatever you're cooking.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their hard work. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me.


	9. A Game of Shadows

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 9: A Game of Shadows**

* * *

"Can we do something other than hooding?"

The chatter at the table stopped suddenly, leaving with only the sound of the Super Nintendo to fill the air with chiptune music.

"Are you sure?" Romy asked.

"I've seen Harry kill a troll and a professor," Hermione said, nodding. "I also helped him steal the Philosopher's Stone.

"I understand that sometimes, you just have to do what you have to do. And besides, this is just make-believe."

The chemistry post-graduate looked at the Boy-Who-Lived, who half-shrugged.

"Well, then," Romy said. "The Ragdoll is the same as ever with its club kids, expensive drinks and Adona in a booth at the back of the establishment…"

**~ooOoo~**

There was something reassuring about playing _Shadowrun_, even if was just an acquisition run in a low-security facility of a sub-A-rated corp; that Hermione had suggested they do more than go hooding was something Harry had not expected so soon, but it was a welcome step forward, even if he recognized she still had a ways to go before she was truly free from her previous black-and-white morality.

It when he was about to leave the shop that Jason pulled him aside, a serious look on his face.

"Word on the street is a couple hoods have been asking around about you and Liv," said the shopkeeper. "Are you in trouble?"

"Nothing I can't handle," said the boy, digging in his pocket for a moment, then taking out the identification card he had taken from the jewel-store robber. "Guess I better pay this gonk a visit."

"You gonna be alright?"

"I'm slottin' grand."

"Look, if you need help..."

"I said I've got this," interjected the Hermetic mage, growling tightly.

**~ooOoo~**

Kyle Jenkins awoke with a start.

He didn't remember leaving the telly on downstairs.

Groggily, he sat up, rubbing his eyes, then stumbled out of bed, wobbling towards the bedroom door.

Suddenly, he found himself toppling forward, his feet caught out from under him, and he barely managed to get a hand down in time to avoid breaking his face on the floor.

Rolling over, he abruptly froze as he found himself staring up into the barrel of a pistol, adrenaline rushing through his body at the sight of the small boy standing over him with firearm pointed directly at his forehead.

"I told you I knew where you lived," growled the boy.

Instinctively, Kyle reached up to grab the boy but he spun out of reach, dropping to a knee.

The muzzle flashed twice, but Kyle did not hear the report of gunfire; instead, he felt a searing pain rip through both ears, and his hands went to them, which only made them hurt worse.

"Argh! You shot me!"

"You try that again, and the next one goes between your eyes."

"You don't want to do this! I'm with the Grove Firm! If anything happens to me, they'll kill you!"

"Not if they have bigger problems."

The last thing Kyle Jenkins saw was a muzzle flash.

Then, his brains were splattered all over the wall behind him.

**~ooOoo~**

Creating a cover story was key.

By now, Harry was well-practiced in making evidence disappear, so the organic matter that was the ganger who had been asking around about him, along with the bullets he had fired into the wall by way of his victim's ears, disintegrated into dust, though not before taking polaroid photographs of his fingerprints; with basilisk skin gloves on, the boy packed a suitcase of the dead man's belongings with just the things one might take if they're about to go on the run—a roll of banknotes from the sock drawer, some changes of clothes, some identification, the pistol he found tucked away behind a ventilation grate—before tossing the packed luggage into his haversack.

Then, he tore through the residence in the manner one would ransack a home, something he had been taught in the program, knifing apart upholstery, pulling books off shelves and tossing knick-knacks all over the place. By the time he was done, it looked like a pack of interlopers had searched the house from top to bottom. He even smashed in the front door.

Afterwards, he set up a surveillance post on the roof of the residence across the street and waited. It wasn't as if he had been subtle when he had faux ransacked the house, so he expected company quickly.

It was just after daybreak when car to pull up to the house and two heavy-looking men exit it; when they spotted the broken door, they immediately drew pistols, and Harry immediately knew they were who he was looking for and snuck down to their car, painting a _wizard mark_ in large invisible magic ink on the top of it before casting _detect magic_ so that he could keep an eye on the mark from a distance.

Awaiting their exit, he took the sky, knowing full well he could not keep up with their vehicle on foot and also realizing most people simply would not look up to see him. Even so, he took the precaution of casting _invisibility_ to conceal his presence from the visible spectrum.

Tailing the car back to the heart of London, he watched as vehicle pulled up to a nightclub on a street empty of pedestrians, the heavies entering through the front entrance, and landed on the flat rooftop of a low-rise residential building two streets away that rose above the building just across the street of the nightclub. Binoculars in hand, the Hermetic mage scanned from window to window until the saw an older man with greying hair shouting at the heavies in one of them, smashing things on his desk and pointing angrily, in a second story window.

Clearly, he was in charge of the Grove Firm.

Reaching into his haversack, the boy retrieved his assault rifle, carefully attaching the four times magnification scope to the weapon before loading a tear gas shell into the underbarrel grenade launcher and dialing the fire selector to single shot. Then, he screwed a sound suppressor onto the threaded barrel.

Sitting down, he braced his feet against the upraised edge of the roof, then took a deep breath before slowly exhaling; halfway through letting the air out of his lungs, the Boy-Who-Lived pulled the trigger, just as the greying man grabbed one of the heavies by the lapel and move to strike him.

Glass shattered, and the man toppled bonelessly sideways as the side of his head blew apart, painting the wall behind him with blood, bone fragments and brain matter.

Readjusting his aim as the two heavies scrambled for cover, the boy fired the contents of his grenade launcher in an arc, sending it through the already broken window and filling the room with thick white smoke. Reloading the grenade launcher, he followed the tear gas shell with an incendiary one, then quickly reloaded again, firing incendiary grenade after incendiary grenade through the windows of the second story.

In only a few minutes, the entire nightclub was smoking, and a dozen or so men where coming out of the front door, coughing and helping each other stay erect.

So, he launched a frag grenade into the crowd, filling the street with blood, viscera and screams of pain and terror.

"Welcome to the London Combat Zone," the Hermetic mage said, smiling to himself. He needed a very public show of force to press the Grove Firm into acting, and he needed their leader out of the picture at the same time to throw the organization into disarray.

Now, all that was left was the sanitize the evidence of his being on the roof.

Besides, there were only two more days before he was going to be back at boarding school, where the Grove Firm wouldn't be able to follow.

**~ooOoo~**

Harry never liked assuming the identity of other people through _alter self_.

Shifting into Malfoy's form as he did during the run Fay and Neville had hired him for the previous term had been not too hard because of their similar heights, but the feeling of his own flesh shifting to as it rearranged itself to appear like the peroxide blonde Slytherin had been unsettling, if not painful, like skin and muscle were melting and being sculpted at the same time.

Taking on the appearance of a grown man, though, was something else entirely. Bones had to elongate, meat grow to compensate for the increased body mass, and dermis stretch to cover the enlarged frame. Compared to this, becoming Malfoy was mere child's play.

The boy-in-a-man's-body looked in the dressing room mirror; he looked like Kyle Jenkins, or at least enough like him to pass any cursory inspection, which was all he really needed the disguise for.

Except for the fingerprints; he recreated those from the polaroids he had taken as closely as he possibly could.

He put on some of the clothes he had taken from Jenkins' home, tucked the pistol into the back of his pants, and left the boutique.

He had a long day ahead of him.

**~ooOoo~**

"Old man, you lost?"

The boy who looked like Kyle Jenkins considered the youths in the underpass near the council housing in Croydon for a moment, then decided they were the ones he was looking for. He remembered reading about the high violent crime rates in this specific area in the news, and he could identify the youths as threats just by looking at them, with their badly hidden bats, clubs and machetes nearby.

He drew Kyle Jenkin's gun and leveled it towards the closest youth.

"Whoa, whoa," the teen said, raising his hands and backing away, along with his friends.

The first bullet went into the teen's stomach, not a fatal injury, just enough to cause a lot of excruciating pain. The next several missed the other fleeing boys, fired with no real intention of doing harm but to send them fleeing and to give him enough time to convey a message.

Crouching over the bleeding boy who clutched at his stomach wound, the Hermetic mage wearing the face and body of Kyle Jenkins whispered, "The Grove Firm sends its regards."

And like that, he was gone, leaving his victim whimpering on the ground, in a pool of his own blood and piss.

**~ooOoo~**

The gambler parlor in Westminster needed a light touch to get to where he needed to go.

The boy knew how to count cards, so that was what he did, for two hours, until two men grabbed him by the arms, told him the management would like a word with him, then pulled him out of his seat at the table.

"This establishment does not look kindly upon cheaters," said the manager of the card room, a Chinese woman in her thirties sat behind a heavy desk.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," said 'Kyle Jenkins'.

One of the toughs struck him in the stomach, and he doubled over, wheezing.

"What misunderstanding would that be?" the manager asked, her tone patronizing.

The disguised boy pulled his pistol as he rolled forward from the bent over position, shooting both heavies who had escorted him to the back office in the knees as he rose back to his feet and spun around, putting one final bullet into the manager's bodyguard's shoulder before he managed a step in his direction.

"This neighborhood is a very dangerous place," the boy who looked like a man said, the threat obvious in his words and actions understood by the manager by the way he could see the absolute terror on her face. "There's accidents, robberies, vandalism, arson… the Grove Firm can insure you against all that for seventy-five pounds a week."

He heard approaching footsteps and pointed the pistol in the general direction of the door, rapidly firing blinding through the wall, aiming low as he swept the muzzle from left to right. There was a scream of agony, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor and another cry of pain, and the gun was pointed right back at the manager

"Okay, alright!" said the woman. "Just let me get the money out of my desk!"

Fumbling, she managed to count out banknotes to make the seventy-five pounds, then pushed it across the desk to the person with the gun on her, who took and pocketed it.

"I'll be back next week with the next installment," he said, though he had no intention of walking into a sure ambush.

Then, he was out the back door and gone.

**~ooOoo~**

He figured three would do the trick, and that's why he was in Tottenham. In Little Russia.

If _Shadowrun_ had taught him anything, it was Russians do not fuck around.

It would be the last time he would wear Kyle Jenkins' face, so it was time to go big or go home.

He didn't have street contacts in the area, but he needed a quick in, and that meant one of two things: drugs or sex.

The boy who looked like Kyle Jenkins decided sex was easier and walked into a seedy massage parlour where he could see two hard-looking gentlemen lounging around in the waiting room even from outside the storefront.

"Welcome to the Gentle Touch," said the receptionist, a truly beautiful woman with a light Eastern European accent, her voice soft but her eyes unusually austere.

"I've been a little stressed out from work lately, so I'm wondering if you offer 'happy ending' services here?" he inquired.

"Of course," said the receptionist with a tight smile. "If you'd come this way, I can take you to your room, where one of our masseuses will make all your tension melt away."

He let himself be guided to a room, the last one in a corridor ending in a door secured by a combination lock. Once inside and the door closed behind him, he took up a seat on the massage table, drawing one of his unenchanted Berettas, loaded with subsonic ammunition, from his haversack and screwing a sound suppressor onto it, before resting it on his lap.

It was only a few minute wait, and then the door swung open, revealing a young woman with fading bruises on her plain face who immediately froze at the sight of the pistol.

"Don't scream," said the Hermetic mage, and the woman swallowed, nodding. "Come in and close the door behind you."

Fearfully, the woman did as instructed.

"How many heavies are here?" he asked. The woman answered with a blank expression, so he clarified, "Men from the gang."

"Two," she answered in a thick Russian accent, holding up two fingers.

"Move to the back wall," he said; when she remained frozen where she stood, he gestured with the pistol and she quickly complied. "No matter what happens next, you need to stay in this room."

The woman nodded fearfully.

"Now, I need you to scream like I'm beating the shit out of you."

"What?" she asked.

"You heard me," he said, raising his pistol threateningly.

The woman swallowed fearfully, then inhaled deeply before letting out a high, shrill scream, and the boy in disguise turned back towards the door, backing up into the corner behind the door.

It only took a moment, but the door slammed open as the two heavies came barreling through it, but neither made it more than two steps into the room before collapsing bonelessly to the ground, the wall behind them painted red with brain matter, bone and blood when each caught a bullet that turned their heads into what could only be described as grotesque modern art.

Behind him, the young woman screamed again, this time in legitimate terror.

Carefully, he stepped over the dead bodies, closing the door behind him before turning to the locked door at the end of the all. Looking over his shoulders for a moment, he caught a glimpse of the receptionist peeking around the corner, pulling back when she thought he saw her.

"_Muto terram_," he whispered, and the lock clicked open.

Dropping to a knee, he slowly turned the door handle, then quickly pulled the door open and dropped onto his back, pistol ready to fire. Only when he had ascertained nobody was in the room did he rise back up, entering the room and closing the door behind him.

Inside the room was a bank of CCTV cameras, a number of file cabinets and a safe.

The safe was easy to get into: another casting of _knock_ and he was inside.

Swinging the heavy steel door open, he found a small heap of carefully placed Russian passports, a disorganized pile of banknotes, rolls and stacks all carefully secured with rubber bands, and a few folders of papers.

Even though the sound was slight, he heard the handle on the door squeak was it was turned and immediately stepped away from the open safe, moving behind the door.

As receptionist slipped past the door, he stepped forward, pressing the barrel of the suppressor against the back of her head, and she froze immediately.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Uliana Borisov!" said the woman, her hands going up.

"Try again," he said, pushing the suppressor harder against the back of her head. "Normal people don't run towards the fire. Who are you really?"

"I don't know what you're talking about! My name is Uliana Borisov!" she protested.

He tightened his finger on the trigger until it was audible.

"Wait!" she said, her accent suddenly vanishing without a trace. "I'm Detective Evangeline Price, Scotland Yard!"

It's never a run until something goes to drek. Still…

"I thought you might be feet. What's your collar number?"

"What?"

"I'm not going to ask again."

"One-Six-Zero-Six-Five-Dee!"

"How long have you been under?"

"Six months! I've been undercover six months!"

"What's the Yard's interest in this?"

"We believe Ilari Markov has been bringing young women into the country, then taking away their passports and forcing them to work in the sex trade."

"I've heard that one before, and I'd say the passports confirm your theory."

"Well, thanks to you, my entire case's been blow up! I can't link any of this back to Markov now!"

"I don't care about that," he said. "These women need help _now_."

"What are you, some kind of vigilante?"

"Something like that, but not even close."

"Even if you give these women their passports back, they'd be going back to situations no better than here!"

"Listen, Detective, this ends one of two ways: you help me do what I'm going to do, or I put a couple bullets in you and do it without your help."

"If you're a vigilante like you say you are, you won't kill a police officer."

He considered the statement for an instant, and found that it wasn't true at all. Then again, he was a shadowrunner, not a vigilante like she thought he was. Still, she could be useful to him.

"Turn around," he said.

"You can't be that stupid," said the detective, her disbelief evident in her voice.

"Try me."

Slowly, the detective turned around until she was face to face with the boy-in-a-man's-body.

"You know I have to include what you look like in my report, right?"

"I'm counting on it," he said, before reaching into his pocket, taking out Kyle Jenkins' identification card and handing it to the detective. "My name is Kyle Jenkins, and I'm with the Grove Firm."

"I'm going to have to write that in my report, and you must know Markov has to have bent cops on his payroll."

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

"Do you have a death wish? Or are you really just that stupid?"

"Do you ever get tired of not being able to do anything? In another six months, most of these women might gone, used up and replaced by the next batch of victims, but right now, we can do something for these victims."

The detective looked torn.

"If you do nothing to help them now, you're just as bad as the passerby who looks away because it's uncomfortable to think about what will happen to them. There might be a bigger picture at play, but if you ignore these poor young women who are stuck here through no fault of their own except for putting their trust in the wrong people, then you're just sacrificing them on the altar the next bigger fish, and you might as well just sign their death warrants yourself."

Seeing she was still torn, he added, "If it makes you feel any better, you can write in your report I forced you to do it at gunpoint, because that'll be true, even if you agree with what I'm doing."

"Fine."

"Now, let's go get the ladies."

Begrudgingly, the undercover detective entered the hall with the disguised boy behind her, shooting him a dirty look as she went from door to door, gathering the fearful young women together until she had seven, including the one he had encountered in the room he had been first taken to.

"Now bring them back into the back room."

Once they were in the room with the cameras and file cabinets, he gestured to the safe.

"Give them their passports and the money."

"How much of the money?"

"All of the money."

"All of the money? What are you, a saint?"

"No, but if you want to take some for yourself, I won't hold it against you."

"I don't want any," the detective growled hotly, though she did not stop passing out the passports and the money.

After the last of the money and passports were passed out, 'Kyle Jenkins' handed the detective the folders of documents from the safe. "You might want these for your investigation."

"Thank you."

"You all should go and get out of here," he said to the women who had just received their passports and a windfall, and they quickly scarpered away out the front door, until only he and the detective remained.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to burn this place down, to send a message."

"What? I won't let you do that!"

"Then stop me. _Creo ignem_!"

The detective recoiled in shock as fire exploded out of his extended hands, setting the walls alight as he turned in a half-circle, covering most of the room in a swath of fire.

"Go!" he shouted, pushing the detective out of the back room. "We need to not be here."

Several moments later, they were outside, watching smoke billow out of the building's windows.

"What was that? And how did you do that?"

"It's nothing you could report without being sectioned," he said, as he ejected the magazine from the Beretta and tucked it into the back of his waistband, then pulled back the slide and caught the bullet the weapon ejected from its chamber. "I'm sorry about this."

"Well, Kyle Jenkins, you're under arrest!"

He didn't comply, but instead struck her forcefully on the forehead with the pistol, sending her to the ground, unconscious. Knowing she would only remain unconscious for a few seconds at best, he quickly crossed her arms across her chest and tucked the handgun under them, then walked away at a brisk pace, melting into the crowd, turning into an alleyway a few blocks away before casting _invisibility_ once he had ascertained he was in a camera blindspot, dismissing his magical disguise and returning to his original form before cutting through a business by its back door and dismissing his _invisibility_ just as he came out of the back of the store. Then, he blended back into the crowd of pedestrians, confident he did not have a tail and would be nearly impossible to track by CCTV.

The badge showing up was certainly a complication, but four is even better than three.

First, though, he was going to buy a ferry ticket to France using Jenkins' credit card.

**~ooOoo~**

"Harry! Where have you been? I was worried when you didn't come home last night or this morning!

"Why do you smell like burnt paper?"

It was an awkward embrace that Karen enfolded him in when he walked into the back room at Bourne's Comics and Games for Patience's night as Storyteller.

"I had a thing I had to do," the Boy-Who-Lived said cryptically. "How was Liv?"

"She spent the day playing the _Final Fantasy_," said the actress. "When I asked her about you, she said you could take care of yourself."

"There's no 'the', and she's not wrong."

"Well, _I'm_ glad you're safe."

"Thank you. Let's go play _World of Darkness_."

**~ooOoo~**

"Do I need to be worried?" Jason asked Harry as the regulars of his shop were getting ready to depart for the night.

"No, I handled it," the boy said.

"Did you now?"

"I put the Triads, the _vory_, some gangers and the feet onto his firm, plus I made it look like he went on the lam, so I'll be fine. Besides, I disappear for a few months come Monday."

"You mean a Russian crime syndicate?" the shopkeep asked.

"There's a difference?"

"Despite what's written in _Shadowrun_, the _vory_ _v zakone_ rules the Russian crime syndicates, but they're the elite ruling class, and not just a name for the entire organization."

"Fair enough. Learn something new every day."

"I almost pity whoever it is you set them on. They don't fuck around."

"I know. That's why I did it."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hermione's changing as a person; her experiences with Harry have started changing her view of the world.

After a few chapters of world building and character development, Harry is back in action...

It's not that Harry can't tell the difference between a tabletop RPG and reality; it's just that it's much easier for him to process this kind of work in _Shadowrun_ terms, with his summer at Jack Ryan's camp providing him the necessary skills to do it. Ultimately, he's essentially a child soldier with the skill set of a spy.

Loose ends need to be tied up, or they lead to complications, as demonstrated here by the robbers Harry and Liv let live previously. Cleaning up the complications is a lot of hard work.

Harry's demonstrating his proficiency in multiple types of runs here: the hoodies are an enforcement run, the Triads a collection run, and the massage parlor ostensibly looks to be a hooding extraction run to free the victims of human traffickers. All of these, however, are simply false flag operations, meant to set up the Grove Firm.

I found the Harry/Evangeline scene fun to write, because it's once again a play of expectations versus reality; Detective Price expects a criminal to want to get away with their crimes, whereas Harry wants word to get out that Kyle Jenkins has been doing all kinds of shady things on the behalf of the Grove Firm, particularly since Jenkins disappears into the aether shortly his crime spree.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me.


	10. Of Elves and Wands

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 10: Of Elves and Wands**

* * *

It was six in the morning when Jason dropped them off at the King's Cross Station, well before the usual morning rush of commuters, so the platform was empty of people.

Never one to waste time, Harry made a beeline for the barrier that led directly into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Liv two steps behind him.

"That's where we're going, right?" asked the dragon-in-girl's-form, pointing, as the barrier came into sight.

"What gave it away?"

"The magic wrapped around the barrier."

"Then you know the answer."

Just before Harry reached the barrier, though, Liv grabbed him by the shoulder. "Wait!"

"What is it?"

"More magic just appeared. It's different, maybe even dangerous."

"Can you tell what kind it is?"

"I've never seen anything like it before."

Reaching into his pocket, Harry drew out a dice and tossed it at the barrier; rather than passing through like he had expected, it bounced off and rolled away.

"Somebody must have erected a magic wall over the barrier," said the boy, picking up the dice from the ground. "Hold up, I've got this.

"_Perdo vim_."

It was a much lesser version of the magic he had used on the magic mirror the previous term, as he did not want to disrupt the normal enchantment on the barrier. Still, a familiar wave of weariness washed over him, and it took him a second to regain his concentration.

"You cleared it," Liv said, and Harry started back towards the barrier again, only to be stopped a moment later as she put a hand on his shoulder again. "It's back."

"That means the source is nearby, watching."

"What's the plan?"

"I'm going to melt it again. Keep an eye out for the point of origin when they recast it."

"Wilco."

"_Perdo vim_."

A moment of silence followed as the dragon looked around. "Nothing. Again."

"_Perdo vim_."

A beat.

"Again."

"_Perdo vim_."

"Again."

"_Perdo vim_."

"Got them."

"Get them, and melt any other magic they try."

"Wilco."

The dragon was off like a rocket, vanishing in a blur of motion that streaked across the platform, coming to a stop in a dark corner, a small, gangly creature struggling in her grasp.

"Let go of Dobby!" it said, thrashing helplessly in the dragon's hands as the boy closed the gap in a much more human speed.

"Who sent you?" Harry asked.

"Harry Potter!" said the creature. "So long has Dobby…"

The Hermetic mage nodded to the dragon, who applied pressure, forcing the creature to stop mid-sentence and squeak like a rubber duck.

"Who sent you?" the Boy-Who-Lived growled again, this time violence more evident in his voice.

"Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter, even if he must shut his ears in the oven door later:

"Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!"

"Telling me not to do something just makes me want to do it more. Who sent you?"

"No, no, no!" squeaked the creature. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe; if he goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"I just call that Saturday. Now, who sent you? Voldemort?"

"Not, not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir," the creature said, shaking his head slowly, like he was trying to pass along a message.

"Dumbledore? Was it Dumbledore?"

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had!" the creature squeaked, as the dragon applied further pressure.

"I don't think we're going to get anything useful out of it," Liv said.

The Hermetic mage considered the house elf; just like it was in a vampire's nature to hunt and feed, it was in this creature's nature to follow its master's directions.

"You're probably right," Harry agreed. "Put it down."

Liv's lips curled into a vicious smile, her fingers tightening around the creature, whose already large eyes widened even further as the sickening crunch of bones breaking came from the grasp around it.

The last thing the creature that called itself Dobby ever did in its existence was scream in pain as Liv crushed it to death with her bare hands, splattering blood and viscera all over the platform floor and walls as its head exploded like a water balloon.

Harry reminded himself once more to never get on the dragon's bad side.

Once again, it was time for crime scene clean up. At least this time, Liv was around to watch and learn the magic involved, so she would be able to sanitize evidence by herself in the future.

**~ooOoo~**

"Are you always early?"

Harry sensed the annoyance in Hermione's voice as she came into the train compartment. He checked his wristwatch; it was eight-thirty, thirty minutes before departure.

"If you're not early, you're late," Liv said without looking up from her Game Boy.

"What she said," Harry agreed.

Stowing her trunk in the overhead rack, Hermione sat down next to Liv and across from Harry, peering over her shoulder to look at handheld game console in her hand.

Then, she asked, "Did you get her everything she'll need for school?"

"Pretty sure I did," Harry said.

"Books? Cauldrons? Robes? Wand?"

"Drek," swore the boy, realizing the dragon didn't have a wand.

"It's not like I need a wand to use magic," Liv said.

"It's not for that, it's for your cover," Harry said.

"It's too late now," the Ravenclaw said. "It'd take at least twenty minutes to get to Diagon Alley and back, and who knows how long it'll take Ollivander to find her a wand."

"It's never too late," Harry said, opening his haversack. "I'll be right back."

The Hermetic mage tumbled into the haversack, leaving the girl and the dragon in silence.

"So, how was your summer?" Hermione asked.

"It was good," Liv said, without looking up from the Game Boy. "I washed dishes at a restaurant and learned how to cook a little bit, discovered food is more delicious when you prepare it carefully first, went to espionage camp, bought a Super Nintendo and a Game Boy, went to a strip club, where I learned about human anatomy, beat a vampire in a fight, and learned more magic by watching Bear."

"Wait, what?"

"Washed dishes at a restaurant."

"After that."

"Learned more magic by watching Bear?"

"Who's 'Bear'? And no, before that!"

"That's Harry; Emily liked to call him 'Hair-Bear'."

"Emily?"

"One of the front of house staff."

"What's that?"

"A waitress."

"Oh. Wait, what did you say before that bit about learning magic?"

"Fought a vampire?"

"Before that!"

"Went to a strip club?"

"Yes, that!"

"What about it?"

"You're too young to go to one! What was Harry doing?"

"At work. He was a prep cook."

It was just then that Harry climbed out of his haversack with a length of wooden rod in hand, and Hermione slapped him across the face.

"What was that about?" he asked, rubbing his cheek.

"I think she's angry I went to a strip club," the dragon said with a shrug.

"I'm livid," Hermione agreed. "What were you thinking? She's too young to see those things."

"I was at work, so I was probably thinking about the prep list. I didn't find out until I got back and saw she was anatomically correct, and that's a good thing, since people are not Barbie dolls," Harry said.

"She's too young!" Hermione repeated, fuming.

Harry shrugged. That wasn't a problem he could fix anyways, since it was in the past.

Right now, he was focused on the length of wood in front of him.

Taking out his monoknife, he flipped it open, carefully splitting the wood evenly lengthwise before closing it back up and putting it in his pocket.

"I need one of your hairs," he told the dragon, who reached up and plucked one from her head before trying to hand it to the boy. "And I need you to suspend it in the air, pulled taut."

Without a word or looking up from her game, the dragon let go of the hair, and it lifted out of her fingers, floating into the air and pulling itself into a straight line.

"One gold piece, one silver piece," Harry said, and the mokeskin pouch around his neck produced the coins he asked for, which he placed on a book he pulled out of his bag.

Forming a circle with his hands, thumbs on top and fingers underneath with his right hand overlapping his left in the _zen_ _kuji-in_, he focused his mind and incanted, "_Muto terram_."

On top of the book, the coins slowly deformed, growing longer and thinner over the better part of a minute, until each was a pile of metal thread. Taking a pencil from his haversack, the Hermetic mage carefully split it open with his switchblade, peeling away the wood until all that remained was the graphite core. He once again formed the _zen kuji-in_ with his hands, and once again incanted, "_Muto terram_", leading to the graphite to first lengthen and grow thinner, becoming a filament with a crystalline appearance.

Lifting the three threads, Harry carefully began to weave them together with the hair floating in the air, creating a single interwoven plait.

"All right, I've got it," he said, and the dragon released her magical hold on the hair, letting it drop into the boy's hands.

Taking the braid of crystal, gold, silver and dragon's hair, he placed it on the center of the split wooden rod, resembling the two halves together before he brought his hands together, fingers interlocked with knuckles out and fingers in, the _jin kuji-in_. "_Creo herbam_."

The two halves of wood melded back together until it was once again one solid piece, which he handed to the dragon. "Your wand."

"You can't just make a wand!" Hermione protested.

"I just did," Harry said.

Hermione looked annoyed for a moment; then, her curiosity got the better of her. "What is it?"

"Gidgee with a braid of diamond, dragon's hair, gold and silver, about a foot and a half long."

"Fancy," Liv said.

"It's basically a slottin' truncheon."

As if to give the point emphasis, the dragon-in-a-girl's-body swung it a few times, cutting the air as she did so.

"I like it," said the boy's adopted daughter with a grin. "Doesn't feel like it'll break easily."

Harry reached into his haversack, retrieving his walking stick; he had not used it much over the summer, as he was only faking a limp for the benefit of the magical society, but now, it was once again time to resume that part of his cover.

"Hey, we match!" Liv observed. Then, her brow furrowed. "What's with the runes?"

Harry suddenly realized the dragon had not really seen the cane since she understood the use of runes as an enchanting mechanism; passing Astral power through the cane as he held it between them, he let go of it and it remained floating in the air.

"Go ahead, try to move it," he said, and the dragon-in-girl's-form grasped it with one hand, a confident look on her face, only to have it be replaced by a look of surprise, then concern, as she tried with all her might but could not make it budge.

"What is this?" she asked, finally letting go of the cane.

"I call it an 'immovable rod'," Harry said.

"That's amazing," Liv said. "There must be hundreds of things you could do with it."

"What's so special about it?" Hermione asked.

"Is she an idiot?" the dragon asked.

"No, she just has a severe lack of imagination," the boy answered.

"I'm right here, you know," Hermione said.

"Sorry," Liv apologized. "It's just, if you can't see the possibilities it presents, I don't know what to tell you. It's amazingly versatile, a complete paradigm shift!"

"I'm glad somebody appreciates it," the Hermetic mage said, and he and the dragon bumped forearms, a habit the two had picked up working in the kitchen, where hand-to-hand contact was a risk for cross-contamination. Flushing the Astral power from the cane, he caught it as it tumbled out of the air, no longer fixed in place.

"I still don't understand how you can just use spontaneous magic like that," Hermione said.

"Like I said, you have a severe lack of imagination," Harry said. "How much progress have you made with the Hermetic arts over the summer?"

"I finally learned how to fly," said the Ravenclaw, her chest puffing pride.

"Anything else?" asked the Hufflepuff.

"I learned how to _fly_!" Hermione reiterated.

"Through what method?" Harry asked.

"Air lifts me off the ground and moves me around," said the bushy-haired girl proudly.

"And that took you the whole of summer vacation?" the boy asked, clearly unimpressed. "Depending on how you do it, flight isn't even that difficult to achieve, and your version only does one thing."

"Well, excuse me for not living up to your standards," the girl spat in indignation.

"Could you even make me fly with it?" Harry asked.

The Ravenclaw froze, her anger rapidly turning into dismay.

"No," she mumbled, defeated.

"There's a life lesson here, isn't there?" the dragon interjected.

"You tell me," the boy said.

"It's 'don't get cocky', isn't it?"

Harry shrugged.

"Well, it's the first spell you developed yourself, so it's bound to be limited in scope," he said.

"What was your first spell, then?"

"_Knock_."

"The one that unlocks doors?"

"Well, I had to get past getting locked in a cupboard from the outside."

"What spell should I develop next?"

"Why are you asking me for?"

The Ravenclaw looked taken aback. "But…"

"It's your magic, your time, your development cycle," Harry said. "Figure it out yourself."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** When you combine Liv's Astral Perception with _dispel magic_ from _Dungeons & Dragons_, this would be logical way for this version of Harry to handle the barrier on the barrier. Note that he would never have interacted with Dobby prior to the train station given the wards on his safe house would make magical entry impossible and his own people know to contact him via snail mail or telephone.

If you thought I wasn't going to knock off major characters, or have them die gruesome deaths at the hands of the series regulars, you're in for a bad time. I'm not saying this is _Game of Thrones_, but, given the amount of bodies Harry himself has already dropped, it was only a matter of time until one of the names got put in the ground, or in the case, all over it.

Before anybody questions why he spared Patience but had Dobby put down, consider this: with the vampire, it wasn't personal. That's a very big difference, because one's just a random act of violence, while the other's a targeted attacked. One is a random monster in the dark, the other is an enemy agent.

Liv may have been learning the wrong lessons with Harry.

Who says you can't _just_ make a wand? If its owner doesn't need one to use magic, you most certainly can.

As foreshadowed in _Hermetic Arts_, Hermione's rote magic tends towards the overly specific, as demonstrated with her version of a flight spell, which can only make herself fly and nothing else. Contrast this with Harry's use of multi-purpose rote magic like _alter self_, and there's already evidence in how the two have differing perspectives on how to use magic.

I know this is a shorter chapter, which is why it's the first part of a two-chapter update; I tried several times to put this and the next chapter together, but they just didn't fit together tonally, so I decided to keep them separate, even if I upload them together.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their hard work. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me.


	11. Draws in Alcoves

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 11: Draws in Alcoves**

* * *

"I made cookies!" announced Fay cheerfully, as she and Neville joined the trio already in the compartment, a chipboard box in her hands.

She barely finished her sentence before Liv flipped open the container and took a handful of baked treats, stuffing three into her mouth right away.

"F'an' 'oo," said the dragon, her mouth full of cookies.

"What?" Fay asked.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Harry chided.

Liv swallowed the food, wiping her mouth with the back of her hands. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," said the Gryffindor girl, "Harry? Danger?"

"Thanks, I'm good," Harry said, declining. "And Liv..."

"Yeah?"

"Use a napkin."

"I didn't know you baked," Hermione said, taking a cooking and nibbling on it delicately.

"I didn't, not until Harry taught me," Fay said.

"You taught her?" the Ravenclaw demanded, turning towards the Hufflepuff.

"Pill was there too," Harry said.

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"I think he means me," Neville said, biting into a brownie he took from his pocket.

"You were with them, but you didn't invite me?" Hermione asked, her annoyance evident despite her attempt in maintaining a calm demeanor.

"Would you have been interested?"

"Well, no, but…"

"I saved both of us time, then."

"It would have been nice, you know? I thought I was your best friend."

"You are."

"Then why wasn't I invited?"

"It was a business meeting."

"A business meeting?"

"Harry, Neville and I are starting a business together," Fay explained.

"Oh," said Hermione. "Why wasn't I included?"

"Do you enjoy baking?" Harry asked.

"No," Hermione admitted, "but I could still help!"

"Why would you _want_ to do something you don't enjoy?" Harry asked.

The Ravenclaw didn't have an answer and could only fume.

"We're really selling cookies, cupcakes and brownies," Neville said, answering the unasked question.

"There's just a little extra love in some of them," Fay added with a mischievous grin.

Hermione cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out the implication, but could not.

**~ooOoo~**

It was not long after the train was underway that there was a knock on the compartment door, and behind the glass that separated the compartment from the corridor was a boy even shorter than Harry, with tousled golden hair and an old-fashioned camera in hand.

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked as she opened the door.

"You're Harry Potter!" the boy exclaimed excitedly, ignoring the Ravenclaw.

"You're being rude," the Hufflepuff snarled, his expression twisting into a dark frown as his lips curled back, revealing teeth. "Answer the question."

"Can I take a picture of Harry Potter?" the newcomer asked with a gulp.

The Gryffindors shared a glance, then stood up at the same time.

"We're going to see if we can sell some of the stuff we made," Fay announced, before she and Neville pushed past the blonde boy.

"Be seeing you, chummer," Harry called after them, before turning his attention to the boy with the camera. "So, what's your name?"

"I'm Colin Creevey," said the boy eagerly. "I'm starting at Hogwarts this year."

"All right, Colin, why don't you come in?" Harry said, and Colin nearly tripped over his own feet in his hurry to take a seat.

"Nice camera," said the Hufflepuff, once the newcomer was sitting.

"Thanks! It's an Argus C3," Colin said. "My dad bought it for me when we found out I was going to Hogwarts."

"You like photography?"

"I love it. It's really cool how you can just capture a moment for eternity with a single picture."

Harry dug into his haversack for a moment, then retrieved his Polaroid camera. "Here, take this," he said, giving the camera to the blonde boy.

"I can really have this?" Colin asked excitedly, taking the camera with both hands in the way one might receive a trophy.

"Of course," the Hufflepuff said.

"Thank you so much!" Colin gushed. "I'll treasure it forever!"

"I'd rather you used it," Harry said. "Anyways, come see me after the Welcome Feast."

"I'll come find you in Gryffindor Tower," Colin agreed, nodding.

"I'm in Hufflepuff," Harry said flatly.

"You're not a Gryffindor?" Colin gasped.

"He's not that kind of person," Hermione said.

"Not even a little bit," Liv agreed, eyes still on her Game Boy.

"Yeah, I'd be a shite Gryffindor."

"Too cautious," Liv offered.

"And not chivalrous at all," Hermione added.

"I'm kind of a terrible person, really," Harry said.

"He'll lie to you," Hermione agreed.

"Never about things that matter, though," Liv argued.

Colin was speechless, unsure how to react to what he was hearing. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Though you should know what you're getting into, if you want to be friends," Harry said.

"You want to be my friend?" Colin asked, flabbergasted. "But you're Harry Potter!"

"Look, I'm just a boy," Harry said. "I mean, I might be famous for no good reason, but I'm also _just_ a second year student at Hogwarts."

"Who's failing Transfiguration and Charms," Hermione chimed in.

"That too," Harry confirmed.

"But you're Harry Potter!" Colin protested.

"That doesn't make me some kind of genius," Harry said.

"But you're _Harry Potter_!" the first year boy reiterated.

"Have you read the pieces in the _Prophet_?" Harry asked.

Colin shook his head. "My dad says I could read it when I'm older."

"All right, then, short version it is," Harry said. "Most of the things you've read about me in books aren't true; the article that was printed Saturday notes that they were all written without permission from me and are in fact completely fictional and unauthorized, and I'm seeking compensation for the use of my name and likeness without permission, as well as damages caused to my reputation."

"Don't believe everything you read," Hermione concluded. "And definitely not about Harry."

Seeing the first year's crestfallen expression, Harry put a hand on his shoulder as if to give him reassurance, "You just made one mistake," he said.

"What's that?" Colin asked.

"Never meet your heroes; they'll always inevitably disappoint you."

The blonde boy nodded, then stood up.

"See you after the Welcome Feast?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I'll find you in Hufflepuff," said the first year, exiting the compartment.

"You know, that might have been a little harsh," Hermione said, after the first year departed.

"No worse than what I did to you," said the Boy-Who-Lived with a shrug.

"You're not really going to be his friend, are you?"

"Right now, he could be a good asset to have, if I can get him to do what I need him to."

"And what would that be?"

"Run surveillance while I do other things."

"Think it'll work?"

"Too soon to tell."

**~ooOoo~**

The sun was starting to set when Neville and Fay returned to the compartment, all smiles and good cheer.

"We're going to need to borrow your kitchen when we get to Hogwarts," Fay announced.

"We sold everything we made," Neville added. "The chocolate-pineapple-rum cupcakes were really popular with the seventh years."

"Good," Harry said.

"I'll give you your cut later, after I count everything out," Fay said.

"Sure thing," said the Hufflepuff.

"It's getting late," Hermione remarked. "We should change into our robes."

"That's a good idea," Fay agreed.

Without a word, Liv set down her Game Boy and began to pull her T-shirt over her head, ignoring the two boys in the room with her.

Neville squeaked in surprise and turned away, blushing.

"What are you doing?!" exclaimed Hermione, rushing to hold up her coat to hide the dragon-in-a-girl's-body.

"I'm gonna go," Harry announced as he stood up. "For a walk."

He didn't wait for a response, letting himself out of the compartment, Neville a step behind him.

"Why did she do that?" the Gryffindor asked, as he and the Hufflepuff walked down the corridor.

"She's a naturist," Harry said.

"She's a what now?"

"Naturist. She doesn't like clothes, and doesn't wear any in private."

"Isn't that embarrassing?"

"Why would it be?"

"She'd be naked!"

"You say that like it's a problem."

The answer set Neville on his back foot. Harry, meanwhile, kept walking.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Neville asked, taking two bounding steps to catch up with his friend.

"Does what bother me?"

"Liv not wearing anything."

"Why would it?"

"She'd be _naked_!"

"Again, you say it like it's a problem."

Once again, Neville was left unsure how to continue, fumbling in his pocket for a moment before retrieving a spliff and sticking it in his mouth, lighting it with a spell and inhaling deeply.

"Do you want a puff?" he asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"I'm good."

The two continued down the train in silence, interrupted by the Gryffindor's smoking, until Harry suddenly stopped at the cubbyhole where he had spent the trip home during the previous Christmas break reading and making notes, and Neville nearly collided with him.

"You," said the Hufflepuff.

"Me," agreed the girl sitting cross-legged in the alcove, her dirty blonde tresses cascading over the roll parchment she was drawing on.

"Do you know each other?" Neville asked, confused.

"Not even a little bit," Harry said.

"Nope," the girl agreed.

"What're you doing here?" the Gryffindor asked the seated girl.

"All the compartments were full….," the girl said dreamily, a half-finished thought.

"What're you drawing?" asked the Hufflepuff.

The girl turned the parchment so that it was facing the boys, revealing a horned creature the likes of which neither had seen before, ink on the drawing still fresh.

"What is that?" Neville asked.

"A Crumple-Horned Snorkack," she said brightly.

"It's very well-drawn," Harry observed.

"I know," said the girl, turning the pad back and going back to the drawing.

"I like _you_," Harry said, a smile dancing across his lips.

The girl looked up from her art for the first time, her pale, silvery eyes meeting the Hermetic mage's piercing green ones.

"You're pretty okay yourself," she said, returning the smile, before reaching a hand up.

Harry took her hand, his fingers wrapping around the back of her thumb as hers did likewise to his, helping pull her up to her feet.

"Harrison Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix Gideon Jacoby Tolliver Everest Maker-of-Pots."

"Of course you are, Harry Potter," she said.

"Oh, I _really_ like you," Harry reiterated, grinning wide.

"You're not too bad either," the girl said serenely as she picked up the trunk that was apparently hers. "You said something about a compartment?"

"I didn't, but it's right this way," the Hufflepuff said, ushering the girl past the confused Gryffindor.

Retracing their steps back through the train, the two boys came to a stop in front of the compartment, the inside hidden by the curtain on the door.

The girl threw open the compartment door, drawing cries of surprise from Hermione and Fay, as both were in various states of undress.

Without missing a beat, the girl with the dirty blonde locks said, "Hello, beautiful people!"

"I like her," Liv remarked calmly, bottomless except for a pair of knickers, easily fending off the two girls trying to force her into a skirt. "Why do I have to wear that? Why can't I just wear pants like Bear?"

"Stop looking!" Hermione shrieked at the boys, grabbing the nearest article of clothing and throwing it at the door even as she covered herself with her robe.

Harry ducked, and Neville found himself with a faceful of stockings.

It smelled faintly of lilacs. And sweat. But mostly of lilacs.

Once again, he was reminded of what was inside his grandmother's armoire.

"Hey! Those are mine!" Fay shouted at Hermione, also covering herself with a robe.

It was at that very moment Neville finally realized Fay smelled of lilacs and marijuana smoke.

The blonde completely ignored the girls covering their modesty and instead tried to push her trunk in the overhead rack but struggled to wedge it in between the already-present luggage.

"Here, let me give you a hand," Liv said, grabbing the trunk with one hand and hoisting it over the other baggage.

"Liv!" Hermione chastised. "Put something on! And you! Stop! Looking!"

"I had trousers on, but you were the one who told me to take them off because I couldn't wear them to the Feast," the dragon-in-girl's-form countered.

Neither Harry nor Neville had a chance to hear the end of that argument, as the girl they had found in the cubbyhole said, "Give us a minute," rather brightly and then closed the compartment door in their faces, Neville still holding Fay's stockings in his hands.

"She's pretty bloody wiz," Harry said, almost in awe.

"I don't know what that means," Neville responded, then frowned. "We should change for the Feast too."

"Why?" asked the Hufflepuff. "I'm not going."

"You're not?"

"Why would I?"

"Liv is going to be sorted; don't you want to show your support?"

"She knows I'd support her no matter what."

"What about the food?" the Gryffindor asked, taking a package from his pocket even as he said that, unwrapping it to reveal a stack of cookies.

"Are you eating the product?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked.

"Of course not," Neville said, before taking a bite. "Fay ma'e 'ese ju' 'or me."

It was at that moment the compartment door slid open again, revealing a fully dressed Hermione and Fay, and even the girl with the long, dirty blonde tresses had changed into robes, but Liv was still without pants or skirt.

"Harry, would you please make Liv put something on," Hermione pleaded.

"I can't _make_ her do anything," said the Hermetic mage.

"Liv, please put on your skirt," said the blonde sweetly at the same time.

"Sure thing," said the dragon-in-a-girl's-body, stepping into the skirt that had been draped across the seat and pulling it up to her waist, doing up buttons on the side with practiced ease. "All you had to do was ask nicely."

"Who is this she?" Hermione asked warily, giving the blonde the side eye.

"She…" Neville started, before realizing he didn't have an answer and biting into a cookie.

"Draws in alcoves," Harry finished.

"Yep, that's me," the girl agreed.

"That's not a name," Hermione protested.

"You can call me 'Dia'," the blonde continued.

"But that's not your name?" Hermione said, half-question and half-complaint.

"Not even close," 'Dia' agreed.

"_Oh_, I really like her," Liv said.

"I know, right?" Harry said.

"Aw, you two are the sweetest," cooed the blonde.

The Hermetic mage and the dragon raised their hands upwards and outwards at the same time, as if to say, "See what I mean?", both grinning broadly.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Part two of a two chapter update. As you've now read both, you can probably why I wanted to keep the two separate for tonal reasons.

Hermione being a little bit possessive of Harry just makes sense to me, since she doesn't have a lot of close friends.

What do you do when you're famous and have a stalker? If you're this version of Harry, you try to find a use for them.

Given Harry's cavalier attitude towards nudity and sexuality, it's no surprise Liv has a very similar one.

No, that's not his given name. No, it's not Hadrian either.

Sometimes, people just hit it off right when they meet, and that's the case with Dia and our primary characters; she just has the kind of improvisational aptitude Harry and Liv do, and they just know, as soon as they start bantering, it's a friendship that's _just_ going to work.

I'm absolutely certain everybody has already figured out who Dia is. More on that subject in the next chapter's author's notes, since I don't want to spoil it for people who can't figured it out.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their hard work. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me.


	12. Nothing of the Sort

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 12: Nothing of the Sort**

* * *

"You're seeing this, right?" Hermione asked, gesturing towards the carriage.

"What about it?" Neville asked, undisturbed.

"It's got… creatures… attached to the harnesses," she said.

"What are you talking about?" Fay asked. "I don't see anything."

"Black, skeletal, kind of like winged horses?" Harry asked.

"Yes, that!" Hermione agreed.

"I don't see anything," Fay said.

"I do," the blonde chimed in blithely.

In the distance, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds called for the first year students to join him away from the other students.

Neither Dia nor Liv seemed to pay the big, hairy lunk any mind.

"Liv, you're supposed to go over there," Hermione said, pointing towards the group of young students amassing near the groundskeeper.

"Why? I was here last semester."

"Not as a _student_!"

"Don't bother," Harry said. "You'll end up at the feast, just like everybody else anyways. Except for me, I mean; I'm not going to waste my time with off-key singing, food I won't eat and a dog and pony show that exists just to create feuds."

"I like dogs and ponies," Draws in Alcoves said.

"Who doesn't?" Fay asked.

"Why do _I_ have to go?" the dragon protested.

"Did I mention there's _a lot_ of food?" Harry asked.

"I'm hungry," Neville announced, "and I'm out of snacks."

"Fine then, I'll go, but I expect meat afterwards."

"You've just been promised lots of food, and you want more?" Hermione asked, incredulous.

"I like to eat," Liv said with a shrug. "And meat goes in a different stomach. Like cake."

"Do you see the horsies?" Dia asked the dragon-in-a-girl's-body.

"They don't look like they'd be good," she said, food obviously still on her mind. "Way too bony, not enough flesh. I'd try it, though. Maybe barbecued? Sauce or brine would probably help."

Hermione turned towards Harry with an expression pleading for help.

"All right, kids, let's get in," Harry said, opening the door to the coach and climbing inside.

"It looks cramp," Liv remarked, peering inside. "I think I'll ride on top."

"What?" Hermione ejaculated in surprise.

The dragon-in-a-girl's-body was already on the move, taking two steps back before getting a running start and using the carriage step as a launching pad, planting one hand onto the roof of the vehicle and flipping into the air, doing a full rotation and landing lightly on her feet.

"Ooh, me too!" Dia said, reaching up with both hands.

"Here, let me give you a leg up," Harry said, kneeling and cupping his hands together, lacing his fingers together.

"Thanks!" said the blonde, putting her foot on the offered boost and reaching up; with the help of the Boy-Who-Lived and dragon-in-girl's-form, she quickly found herself at the top of the coach and looked around. "Love the view!"

"I know, right?" Liv said before leaning over the edge of the roof and peering into the carriage. "You sure you don't want to come up, Bear?"

"Is it because he's huggable?" asked Draws in Alcoves.

"Is that why Emily called you that?"

Harry shrugged, even as the Ravenclaw and the two Gryffindors boarded. He couldn't answer for somebody who wasn't there, and he certainly wasn't a mind-reader.

"You two might want to hold onto something," said the Hufflepuff, as the coach began to move.

"Wilco," the dragon called back, disappearing back over the edge of the roof. To Dia, she offered an arm. "Milady."

"Thank you," said the blonde, wrapping both arms around the offered limb and leaning against Liv's shoulder.

Only Harry seemed to notice the ceiling of the carriage slowly dent, then tear, as the dragon dug her fingers through it to secure her place on the roof; to Hermione, Neville and Fay, he passed out two-way radios.

"We're going to be using these to stay in touch while we're at Hogwarts, so we're not running around looking for one another," the Hermetic mage announced. "You remember the instructions on how to use these, right? We'll meet up every day for fresh batteries."

The other second-year students nodded, and they were in business.

**~ooOoo~**

"Olivia Baldursdottir!"

"Olivia _Baldursdóttir_!" the dragon shouted back, correcting the professor's pronunciation as she slowly rose off the bench where she had taken a seat next to Hermione with the Ravenclaws.

The stern professor glared at the dragon-in-a-girl's-body, and Liv ignored her, sauntering up to the stool with the hat on it, all eyes on her, the hall abuzz with whispers.

"_That's_ Harry Potter's daughter?"

"I wonder if she's anything like Potter."

Taking a seat on the chair, Liv waved at Draws in Alcoves, who was sitting next to Hermione, and the blonde waved back cheerfully.

Then, the hat was placed on her head.

_Let's see what we have here_, said a disemboweled voice in her head as soon as the hat touched her skin. _Wait, you're a_…

"Dra…"

The hat started to speak, and in that moment, Liv realized it was about to blow her cover; instantly, Astral power flooded through her, and she forcefully shredded every bit of magic that held the hat together, like how she had seen Harry dispel the magic the strange creature had used to blockade the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, albeit on a much larger scale and with much more power behind her intent.

The hat never finished its thought; in fact, it simply went limp, and the dragon-in-girl's-form felt something hard hit the top of her head, even as she heard cloth rip apart.

"I don't think 'dra' is one of the houses," Liv said flatly, as gasps filled the hall and the hat toppled off her head. "Also, I think your hat is broken."

It was only then that she noticed the sword sticking through the hat; it must have been the pommel that she had felt.

"Miss Baldursdottir, what have you done?" the stern professor demanded.

"Me? Nothing," lied the dragon, as she stood up. "I'm going to go. Over there. To Hufflepuff. Where Bear is."

The hall erupted into an uproar, particularly the Hufflepuff table.

"There's a bear?!"

"Where? Where?!"

"Run!"

Amidst the panic, Dia sat with a serene smile, eyes distant.

"Shut it!" the dragon roared, loud enough to rattle the windows and chandeliers, instantly quelling the students into silence. "There's no real bear here; that's just what I call my dad. Now sit your arses down so we can get this over with and to the food I was promised."

"Miss Baldursdottir, a student _does not_ get to choose their House!" called the stern professor as Liv walked away from the stool.

"I just did," the dragon said defiantly without looking back. "What are _you_ going to do about it, expel me? You didn't expel dad, and he flunked Charms, Transfiguration _and_ Flying."

The murmurs grew even louder at that revelation.

The stern professor started to say something but was stopped by the beardy man in the tall hat and garish robes, who raised a hand as he stood up, quelling the murmuring among the students.

"Miss Baldurdottir, you may join Hufflepuff," he announced, plainly trying to regain some measure of control over the proceedings.

"I wasn't asking permission," Liv countered, and the whispers returned in increased volume.

"We'll continue the Sorting after the feast," the beardy man continued.

"Screw that!" shouted one of the first year students. "I'm going to Gryffindor!"

With that, the orderly queue of youngsters awaiting their turn at the stool fragmented as the students dispersed, deciding for themselves where they wanted to go.

Pausing at the Ravenclaw table, Liv offered Dia her arm. "If Milady would care to join me."

"Of course," said the blonde serenely, standing up and wrapping both of her own around the dragon-in-girl's-form's arm. "Milord."

Together, the two went to the Hufflepuff table and sat down, while other first year students found their own seats, completely ignoring the bearded wizard still trying to gain some measure of control, even as the stragglers found places for themselves.

The beardy man said a bunch of things, but the dragon wasn't paying attention to him; instead, she was focused on the girl draped around her arm, her head resting on her shoulder.

It felt nice.

Then, the table was suddenly full of food, and she was shoveling it onto her plate, en route to her mouth.

**~ooOoo~**

"Get out!"

Roger Malone was taken aback at the appearance of the girls at the door of the room he shared with Harry Potter, particularly the girl who was Harry's daughter demanding he leave.

"But, this is my room!" Roger protested.

"And Bear is my dad," Liv argued. "And I'm going to stay with my dad."

"I'm sorry, she can be a bit of a brat," Harry said, not really apologizing.

"But this is the boys' dormitory!" Roger continued, ignoring the non-apology.

Harry placed a hand on Roger's shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'll go," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "You're already half unpacked, and it's not like there aren't a bunch of unused rooms down here."

"But… this is the _boys'_ dormitory!" Roger reiterated.

"If they didn't want girls in here, they'd have put up the same charms that stop boys going into the girl's dormitories," Harry reasoned.

"Besides, you'll have a room to yourself," the Boy-Who-Lived continued. Then, to Liv and Dia, "Let's see if we can't find a place to stay."

It took the trio less than ten minutes to find accommodations, a fully-furnished two-bed unit with an en suite bath.

"You girls take the beds, I'll sleep on the floor," Harry said, as the door closed behind them.

"We could put the beds together and make one giant bed," Dia suggested.

"Full disclosure, I sleep naked," Harry said.

"Me too," Draws in Alcoves said. "How about that?"

"Yeah, let's do that," Liv agreed, single-handedly picking up the furniture and moving it without help from either the boy or the girl.

Within a few minutes, the room had been rearranged, the headboards of the beds pushed together against the wall furthest from the door, dressers and desks on either side of the sleeping arrangement in a symmetrical design.

"I'm going to get comfy," the dragon-in-a-girl's-body announced, before promptly shedding her robe-like duster, unbuttoning her cardigan with one hand while she loosened her necktie with her other, tossing it into a heap with the duster. Besides her, the blonde did the same, and in just a matter of a few short moments, the rest of Liv's clothes had joined the pile on the floor, as had Dia's.

"Tickle fight!" announced blonde promptly, tackling Liv onto the bed; within a moment of impact, though, the dragon-in-girl's-form had the girl pinned face down to the mattress, one arm twisted behind her back, forcing her hand towards her neck in a vicious hammerlock and making her squeal in pain as the dragon torqued her shoulder.

"Remember, she's only human," Harry said.

"Right," the dragon said, letting go of the girl's arm. "I'm sorry, I tend to forget people are squishy."

"You're not just a girl, are you?" Dia asked, massaging her shoulder. "And you can use magic, can't you, Tolliver?"

"Are you sticking around?" he asked, and the blonde nodded vigorously. "Well, then, I guess you're going to find out one way or another."

"Might as well tell her, right?" Liv said. "It's not like we can hide it forever, and she doesn't have a treacherous bone in her body, so we can trust her."

"How would you know that?" the Hermetic mage asked.

"Read her mind," Liv said matter-of-factly.

Sitting next to her on the bed, Dia's remained serene, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"How do you even know how to do that?" the boy asked.

"The beardy man in the weird clothes was doing it to students; I just copied what I saw," answered the dragon-in-girl's-form.

"Well, don't ever do that to a friend without permission," Harry said. "It's an invasion of privacy; how would you like if a friend started rooting in your thoughts and memories without asking first?"

"I wouldn't like it at all," Liv said, understanding the point Harry was making. "But she wasn't a friend at the time."

"That's a fair point, actually," Harry admitted. "Just don't do it to friends without asking first?"

"Okay, I'll ask for permission," the dragon agreed.

"Good," said the Boy-Who-Lived, before turning towards Dia. "You know what a 'blood oath' is?" he asked.

"It's an oath that involves blood?" Dia guessed. "Like an Unbreakable Vow?"

"I don't know what that is," the Hermetic mage said. "It's something normal people used to do in ancient times to create pacts that bind."

"That sounds interesting," Draws in Alcoves said, nodding sagely. "I'll make a blood oath with you; just show me how."

"Knife?" Liv requested, and Harry took his switchblade out his pocket, tossing it to the dragon, who caught it. "Hands?"

Harry extended a hand, face up, and the blonde did likewise; flipping open the knife, Liv ran the blade across their palms, drawing blood, before taking and pressing together.

"Swear you'll keep our secrets," the dragon-in-girl's-form told the blonde.

"I swear I'll keep _all_ your secrets," Dia said solemnly. Then, she asked brightly, "What are your secrets?"

"I'm a Hermetic mage," Harry said, forming the _prana mudra_ before incanting, "_Creo corporem_."

Quickly, the cuts across the palms of the two children healed over.

"I'm a dragon," Liv added. "A Norwegian Ridgeback."

"That makes sense," Dia said without missing a beat. Then, a grin broke across her lips and she tackled the dragon onto the bed again. "Tickle fight!"

Liv broke into giggles as the blonde lightly ran her fingers up her sides, then shrieked involuntarily as Dia's fingers grazed her armpits. Without relenting, Draws in Alcoves continued her assault until the dragon was squirming and laughing uncontrollably.

"That's it, now you've done it!" the dragon gasped, as the blonde broke from her assault for a moment to lazily stroke Liv's belly, giving her the instant she needed to recover.

Hooking one of Dia's arms, Liv rolled her over and wrestled her to the mattress, once again putting her in a hammerlock, though not as tightly as before. With her free hand, the dragon ran a finger over the blonde's spine, making her squirm, then began to lightly tickle her sides, filling the air with giggles.

Meanwhile, Harry was unpacking Liv's satchel, filling one of the dressers with her clothes and organizing the rest of her things, particularly her electronics, on a ready-to-assemble shelf he had put together while the girls were tickling each other, making sure to plug each item into a surge protector he wired into a petrol-fueled power generator in the back corner of the room.

As the boy began to etch runes and symbols into the generator with a diamond-tipped stylus, Liv and Dia lazed around in the bed, luxuriating the afterglow of their tickling party, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

"What are you doing?" asked Draws in Alcoves, watching Harry with interest.

"A petrol-fueled generator produces fumes that are dangerous to breathe," Harry explained. "The one in the kitchen's already been enchanted with purification runes, but I haven't had time to do this one until now."

"I bet you'd be great at Ancient Runes," the blonde said, stretching languidly like a cat.

There was an instant of silence; then, Harry said to the blonde girl trying to sneak up to him, "Touch me, and I'll break your fingers."

"I'm all sweaty, so I'm going to take a shower," Liv announced, sitting up.

"Me too!" Dia said, scampering back over to the Norwegian Ridgeback ..

Hand-in-hand, the dragon and the girl skipped to the bathroom; a moment later, the sound of running water and laughter echoed, and it was then that the Hermetic mage realized they hadn't closed the door behind them, and would likely fill the bedroom with steam.

**~ooOoo~**

"Something smells yummy," Dia commented as she and Liv came out of the bathroom to the plates and plates of food laid out on the bed, toweling their hair dry.

"_Itadakimasu_," Liv said, picking up a skewer from a plate and tearing into the food on the bamboo with her teeth. "You've been busy, I see."

"What is this?" the blonde asked, picking up a skewer herself.

"_Ika geso karaage_," the Hermetic mage and the dragon answered at the same time.

"Of course it is," said Draws in Alcove, taking a big bite out of the skewer. "It's good."

"You don't know what that is, do you?" the dragon asked.

"It's yummy," Dia said, happily eating another bite from the skewer.

"They're deep fried squid tentacles," Harry said.

"They're delicious," reiterated the girl, picking up a breaded and fried piece from a different plate and popping it into her mouth. "This is yummy too."

Liv was busy stuffing her mouth, taking different snacks from various plates and gobbling them up eagerly.

"Slow down, there's plenty to go around," the boy said, gesturing at the plates piled high with food—some fried, some grilled and some raw—that covered the two beds pushed together.

"What's this?" Dia asked, picking up a thin, flimsy brown strip that had a layer white inside it.

"_Lo shui ju yee_," Harry answered, even as the girl took a bite out of it. "Pig's ear in braised Chinese master sauce."

"It's crunchy," said the blonde with a smile, before eating a piece of chicken _karaage_. "Is this chicken?"

"Chicken _karaage_," Liv agreed.

"If you eat like this every day, I'm going to love living here," Dia said with a content smile, as she ate a piece of fried, breaded meat. "Pork?"

"_Tonkatsu_."

"It's super yummy."

"Bear's the best," the dragon remarked, clearing another plate into her mouth.

Noticing Harry hadn't touched any of the food but was working on something else, Dia asked, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Well, people don't know we're living here now, so I thought I'd make a sign for our names," said the Hermetic mage, showing the piece of white chipboard he had been writing on. "Just need your name for it."

"Sure, give it to me," said the girl, and the boy complied, handing her the paper and a permanent marker.

She wrote her name in large, loopy letters, then handed both the card and pen back to Harry. "There you go, Amadeus."

"It's a pleasure," the Hermetic mage said, and the girl shook his hand for the first time. "I'm going to go tape this up on the door."

"You do that," said the girl, as she picked up another piece of chicken _karaage_.

Letting himself out of the room without opening the door too wide, Harry pulled a roll of duct tape out of his haversack and affixed the namecard to the door at eye level, making sure it was straight and centered before he taped all four sides of the placard to the wood of the door, burnishing it down with his sleeve and the heel of his palm.

**~ooOoo~**

The new Hufflepuff prefect strolled down the boys' dormitory hall in the first of what he expected would be a nightly walkthrough. It was only the first night, so he did not expect any excitement, just students settling into their rooms.

He almost missed the placard, attached to the door with some kind of silvery-gray tape, and he hurried over towards it; after all, the room wasn't supposed to be occupied, but he could hear the faint sound of talking and laughter coming from behind it.

When he got close enough to read what was written on what was clearly a nameplate, he felt his stomach drop and the beginnings of a headache form as his brain slowly comprehended what his eyes saw on the placard, the last line of which was written in a loopy, girly hand:

Harry Potter

Olivia Baldursdóttir

_Luna Lovegood_

It was going to be a long year.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** It's got to be hard, for Hermione to be seeing the thestrals so young into her life, but she did see a troll get burned to death and Quirrell get dusted.

Things tend to get physically destroyed in this story; I can't help it, it's just way more fun and interesting when something signature and seemingly significant goes the way to "I done a whoopsy."

Teaching a dragon magic was always a dangerous gambit; teaching her how to take apart magic makes her even more dangerous. If anything, Liv may already be one of the most powerful magical entities in existence by virtue of her ability to observe magic and then repeat it back in a variety of forms and power levels. If anything, Harry raising Liv is not unlike a human child trying to raise a newborn god, teaching them about people, and Harry is kind of raising Liv into a violent, vengeful god, which wasn't his plan.

I honestly don't know where the Sword of Gryffindor is normally stored; I just remember it being pulled out of the Sorting Hat in the original version of the story, and for that reason, my brain kind of just assumed the Sorting Hat also kind of doubles as some sort of Bag of Holding, so I thought it'd be an interesting visual to have it just kind of all out of the hat immediately after its magic was rent asunder.

Liv has the same kind of contemptuous attitude towards authority as Harry, except she also has the confidence of knowing she absolutely has the firepower, physical _and _magical, required to back up her intentions.

I figured, once the first-year students saw one student pick a house for themselves, it would be completely within the realm of reason for them to decide they want to pick their own houses too; it's kind of a snowball effect, started by Liv, and then the first-year Gryffindor making their choice kind of that sealed the deal of first-year students just deciding where they want to go, completely ignoring what a sorting might be, and once the students decide for themselves where they want to go, with only a limited amount of staff and no Sorting Hat, the staff would be hard-pressed to justify the time and resources required for sitting down to interview them all one-by-one, especially if the students themselves picked houses that suit them.

Poor Roger. First, he was Harry's errand boy, and now he's got a dragon trying to kick him out of his own dorm room. Lucky for him, it's a giant castle, so of course it'd stand to reason there would be abandoned bedrooms just like there are abandoned classrooms.

Harry not really caring about a stranger stripping buck naked in his room is pretty on par for the cyberpunk genre and his love of it, along with his own lack of understanding regarding certain social conventions; in _Cyberpunk 2020_, one of the fashion choices a character can randomly roll for their character is nude. It might weird others out, but for him, it's not big deal. Plus, as he's constantly reminding Hermione, he's seen "more and better".

In my original outline for the series, Luna Lovegood was not intended to be a major character; hell, I had originally wanted to just skip over the character because I didn't like the non-sequitur manner which she is often written. However, as I wrote more of _Hermetic Arts_ and _Physical Adept_, I came to realize this version of Harry is absolutely a horrible role model and parental figure, and Liv needs a more "human" element in her life, and so, instead of having Harry foist her off onto Colin as I had originally intended, I brought in Luna Lovegood as a primary character, but rather than go with the wacky version popular in so many other stories, I chose instead to focus on her acceptance of things as they are, her ability to just go with the flow, her unflappable serenity and her artsy interests, and paired her with the dragon as a way to show Liv what exactly a more "normal" human childhood is like, since Harry's version wasn't exactly normal. Some things that have happened thus far may seem off-kilter for the character (or any child), but I do think I have things set up down the line that will illuminate why certain things are the way they are for her.

That said, her identity wasn't meant to be a mystery; it's just, her real name never came up, since Harry is completely fine with calling people by names they make up themselves, and Liv takes a lot of her cues from her adopted father. This speaks to Harry's willingness to accept people for who they want to present themselves as, as long as they're not trying to hurt him, because personal identity is one of the themes of cyberpunk, so it stands to reason he'd respect that.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their hard work. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me.


	13. Prodigy Diligent Asset Friend

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 13: Prodigy Diligent Asset Friend**

* * *

Harry awoke in a tangle of limbs and blankets, Liv draped over him and Luna wrapped around one of his arms. Carefully extracting himself from the jumble, he checked his watch, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shower.

By the time he came out of the bathroom, Liv was up and out of bed, pulling on a tank top with a pair of knickers already on as he came out of the door hand-drying his hair.

"Morning," said the dragon, tossing a handful of clothes to Harry, who caught them. "I started the rice cooker; it should be ready by the time we get back."

"What do you want for brekky?" Harry asked, as he put on pants and T-shirt, then stepped into a pair of tracksuit trousers.

"_Karaage_ and _shiozake_," said the dragon, pulling on a pair of shorts. "_Sashimi_, _omuraisu_, and _miso ramen_. Shall we go?"

"Boots," said the boy. "Don't forget your boots."

**~ooOoo~**

The first thing Harry and Liv did when they returned to their room after the morning's run and calisthenics was jump in the shower to wash off the dirt and sweat they had accumulated from the exercise.

Then, the two were back in the industrial kitchen, making breakfast. In a way, Harry was glad Liv had worked at Jade Garden with him, because even though she did not have a chance to do any prep or cooking while she was employed there, she learned everything she could simply by watching, and in doing so, could prepare meals with him now they had their own kitchen.

Luna was just waking up as the two came out of the trunk with the industrial kitchen with trays of food in their hands.

"Something smells good," said the girl dreamily, rubbing her eyes and stretching.

"Could be the _ramen_," the dragon said, nodding towards one of the three steaming bowls, which the boy took off one tray and put onto an empty one, passing it over to the naked girl sitting in the bed.

"Chopsticks or fork?" he asked.

"Chopsticks, if you show me how to use them," said the blonde.

"Sure," Harry said, picking them up to demonstrate. "Just hold them like you're holding a pencil or a quill, then form a fulcrum with them just behind your thumb, like this."

"That's not how you're supposed to use chopsticks," the dragon said.

"It works though, doesn't it?" Harry said, with a shrug, handing the chopsticks to the girl, who did as the boy demonstrated. "There you go. Now, it's just practice."

The girl started to pick up some noodles with the chopsticks, managing to get them a few inches out of the soup before they slipped from her grasp.

"Here, use this," the boy said, offering the Luna an Asian soup spoon.

"Thank you," said the girl, once again picking up some noodles with the chopsticks; this time, rather than trying to raise them to her lips, she instead placed the noodles in the spoon and brought that to her mouth instead.

"See, you're a natural," Harry said, carrying a tray of food over to one of the desks and sitting down at it, opening up a book and setting it aside as he began to eat and write at the same time.

"That's a neat trick," said the blonde, biting into the sliced pork belly that was sitting in the broth.

Liv was already eating, alternating between bites of the noodles, grilled salmon, fried chicken, raw fish and egg-covered fried rice.

**~ooOoo~**

Filius Flitwick had been the professor of Charms at Hogwarts for many a year, and had seen many things during his tenure.

It was the first Charms lesson for first-year students, and Olivia Baldursdottir, the daughter of Harry Potter, was doing the impossible.

The Wand-Lighting Charm, _Lumos_, is a very basic charm; in short, it created a light at the tip of its caster's wand. The intensity and color was always the same, and it had no special effects beyond illumination and warding off spectral entities and being a bit on the warm side.

Such was not the case with Olivia Baldursdottir; with a simple incantation of _Lumos_, she had created a light at the tip of her wand, as was expected of the spell, but then repeated it the exact same way and created a light of varying colors, intensities of brightness and temperature, and even somehow created an effect where the light blinked rapidly, nearly sending one of her fellow first-year students into an epileptic fit.

Then, she made lights appear far away from the tip of her wand, dance in the air, and even created a silhouette of a person with light, all by casting _Lumos_.

It should all be impossible, but there she was, doing it like it was no different than breathing, even with her lackadaisical pronunciation and wand movements.

Filius Flitwick would have been amazed if his mind could get past the impossibility of what he was witnessing the first-year Hufflepuff do; unfortunately, he could not, and thus instead stood with his mouth hanging wide open as Olivia achieved increasingly ludicrous effects by just waving her wand around and mumbling "_Lumos_".

**~ooOoo~**

"Mister Potter."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks at the familiar voice of the Herbology professor and the head of Hufflepuff, causing Luna to nearly run into him, tripping on her own feet in her haste to avoid the collision, though Liv caught her easily by the elbows before she could take a tumble to the floor of the Hufflepuff common room.

"Thank you," said the girl to the dragon, favoring her with a grateful smile.

"I'm listening," growled the boy. He had an idea where this was going.

"Mister Potter, you simply cannot share a room with Miss Baldursdottir and Miss Lovegood," the Herbology professor said. "And Miss Baldursdottir, Miss Lovegood, you two must return to the girls' dormitory in the evening."

"Why?" asked the dragon.

"There's no telling what boys might do with you sleeping in their dormitory," said the woman. "It's why there are charms preventing them from entering the girls' dormitory."

"So, you're saying girls won't do those things to boys when they're asleep, which is why there aren't charm preventing them from entering the boys' dormitory?" the dragon asked.

"Exactly."

"I've been to Vegas," Liv said. "I've known girls who happily do those kind of things to boys while _they're_ asleep.

"Besides, if you're worried about Bear, he's my dad; he wouldn't do anything like that to me, so there's no reason to worry about it."

"Nonetheless, he's a boy, and you're a girl, so it's indecent for you to share a room."

"I'm won't stop living with my dad just because you're old-fashioned and squeamish."

"Miss Baldursdottir, I simply must insist..."

"You can insist all you want; I don't care what you insist on. There's nobody in the world I trust more than Bear, and that includes you. In fact, this is making me trust you less and less, because now all I'm seeing here is you trying to break up my family."

The thick-set woman was taken aback; even though the room had started off on her side, almost indignant at the idea of the mixed-gender living arrangement, the mood had clearly shifted based on the whispers and murmurs of the students scattered throughout the room. She clearly had not expected this, and looked to Luna for some kind of support.

"Miss Lovegood, surely you must..."

"I'm staying with Liv and Gideon," announced the blonde gaily.

"Who?" asked the professor, confused.

"Tolliver."

"I'm sorry, who is that?"

The blonde turned to the boy she had nearly crashed into moments earlier. "Doesn't anybody else here know your proper name, Phoenix?" she asked.

"Just you, Dia," Harry said lightly.

"Well, I'm going to stay right where I am, thank you very much," Luna said. "I'm already unpacked and everything, and having to move out would just be a bother. Besides, I trust Liv, and if she trusts Everest, then I do too."

The professor turned to the boy for support.

"Surely, Mister Potter..."

"What are you going to do, fail me in Herbology?" the boy asked, interrupting the professor. "I failed three courses last year; what's adding one more to the list going to do? Besides, I could always just owl Miss Skeeter; I'm sure she'd have a field day when she learns of how professors at Hogwarts interfere with the lives of students who are family to each other."

The heavy-set woman froze, unsure how to respond to the blatant threat of being torn apart in the press; threatening somebody with public humiliaton was not a very Hufflepuff thing to do, and yet, defending one's friends and family was themost Hufflepuff thing somebody _could_ do..

The boy simply walked by her, Liv and Luna two steps behind him.

"You girls want something to eat?" he asked the two following him, as though the encounter had not just happened.

"_Tonkatsu_ and _omuraisu_," Liv said.

"That_ ramen_ from this morning," Luna added.

**~ooOoo~**

"You both woke up early again today," Luna observed, as Harry and Liv came into the room. "What are you two doing so early in the morning?"

"Exercise," Liv said, as she started to disrobe in preparation to shower.

"Do you do it every day?" asked Luna.

"Every day, rain or shine," Harry confirmed. "Training your body's just as important as training your mind."

"If you'd wake me up tomorrow, I'd love to join you," Luna said.

"Okay," said Liv.

**~ooOoo~**

The first lesson in second-year Transfiguration started with a practical portion, a retread of a spell to make any object rubbery and bouncy that had been taught in Charms the previous year as the Softening Charm.

Harry was not having a good day; as he had expected, the summer away from Hogwarts had done nothing to change his inability to use magic with his wand, and it was frustrating to once again be faced with his limitations. While his classmates, Hufflepuffs and—unlike the previous year—Ravenclaws, were all performing well compared to him, and it was the first time he witnessed first-hand how his best friend could start with nothing at the beginning of a practical lesson and properly produce the effects of the spell in question by the end of the period.

The unfortunate side effect of having a spellcasting course with the Ravenclaws came at the end of the lesson; even though he would rather do anything else, Harry found himself being dragged into a spare classroom by Hermione, and spent the next hour working with her on trying to get the spell to work for him with the wand after confirming he could produce the effect through spontaneous Hermetic magic.

The Boy-Who-Lived knew his best friend meant well, but sometimes, all he wanted to do was to get some time alone to himself to calm down after something as frustrating as that happened.

**~ooOoo~**

"I know you said to find you after the Welcome Feast, but I asked around and nobody knew where you were," said the blonde boy as he intercepted Harry Potter in the Hufflepuff common room during the third afternoon of the term.

Harry considered his approach for a second, then clapped Colin on the shoulder. "It's my fault, really," said the Hermetic mage. "I didn't know I'd be moving rooms on the first night."

"So, why did you want to see me after the Feast?" asked the first-year Hufflepuff.

"I need your help," Harry said. "It's going to be really time consuming, and it might make people think you're weird."

"Anything you need," agreed the blonde Hufflepuff without a moment's hesitation.

"Aren't you still disappointed I'm nothing like the hero you thought I'd be?" Harry asked.

"At first, I was a little bit, but then I figured there must be a good reason why you do the things you do; I'm just a first-year who didn't even know about magic until this past June, but you defeated You-Know-Who, so if you need something, there must be a good reason for it."

"That's fair, I suppose," said the Hermetic mage. "I need you to run surveillance on Dumbledore."

"I don't know what that means," Colin said.

"I want you to follow Dumbledore around without getting caught when you're not in class, and take photos of him whenever he goes somewhere, talks to somebody or does something suspicious," Harry explained.

"I could follow him and take pictures, but I don't know about not getting caught."

"Well, come on, then, I'll show you some tricks for tailing somebody and not getting made."

**~ooOoo~**

"Transfiguration is some of the most complicated and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," said the Professor Minerva McGonagall, before turning her desk into a pig. "Anyone…"

Olivia Baldursdottir waved her club of a wand over her desk in a sloppy imitation of the professor's, repeating the incantation with an impression of the professor's that might as well have been a parody.

Her desk too turned into a pig.

It immediately tried to run away.

The young first-year Hufflepuff waved her wand haphazardly again, and the pig transformed back into a desk, skidding across the floor as its previous momentum carried it along.

"Anyone, and that includes you Miss Baldursdottir, messing around in my class will leave and not come back."

Liv turned into an exact duplicate of the cat the professor had been just minutes before, then said, in clearly human words, "But I'm just doing exactly you did."

As the other first-year students gasped in surprise, Minerva McGonagall suddenly felt the beginnings of a migraine headache at the back of her skull.

**~ooOoo~**

Luna impressed Harry.

From what she had told him, she was not accustomed to exercising, but she had done the morning's calisthenics and mile-long run without a single complaint, doing her best to stay with him and Liv even though she was visibly struggling with some of the endurance aspects of the regimen. Only when they finished the run did she collapse onto the ground, laying on her back as she panted raggedly, trying to catch her breath and watching as Harry and Liv began circling each other, slapping at each other's hand as they prepared to wrestle each other to the ground as part of their hand-to-hand combat training

"You did good," he told Luna as he stood over her, dirty with grass, dirt and sweat once he and Liv had sparred intensely for nearly half an hour. "You need to warm down though, or you might hurt something."

"Okay," said the girl, reaching up, and Harry gave her a hand, helping her to her feet. "Show me what to do."

Falling in line at Liv's flank, Luna began following her example, doing the same exercises as the dragon, albeit a half-beat after her. A half-step behind her, Harry did the same, though he knew the order and number of repetitions of the exercises himself.

When the exercises for the morning were finally complete, Luna was soaked in sweat but glowing from the workout, a look that saw her pale skin flushed pink.

"That's a wrap," Liv told the other first-year Hufflepuff.

"I'm all icky with sweat," the blonde announced. "Let's go take a shower."

Harry wasn't sure if the shower in their dormitory could fit all three of them at once, but now as good a time as any to find out.

**~ooOoo~**

With Madam Rolanda Hooch under inquiry by the Board of Governors following the revelation in _The Daily Prophet_ that her inaction had led to Harry's broken leg and subsequent refusal to even attempt to mount a broom, a temporary substitute for the position of flying instructor had been hired in the form of Rowan Murphy, a professional Quidditch player currently in-between teams. A journeywoman with a versatile skillset, capable of playing any position on the field as well as a utility player who primarily rode the bench as a multi-positional backup could be expected to, she was in her mid-thirties, just out of her athletic prime, and considering a change in career as she saw her employment opportunities in the League begin to dwindle.

It was the first time she had ever seen the Boy-Who-Lived in person, and even though she had seen the photograph of him included with the article in _Prophet_, seeing him in person cemented just how different than her expectations of him were from the reality. Even though she had read about the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his aunt and uncle, she had not expected the wiry boy to have such sharp eyes and to be constantly looking around, as if trying to spot threats to his being.

After giving tasks to the other students, Rowan approached Harry carefully, not wanting to scare off the boy who was attending Flying for the first time since his accident but also wanting to help him discover the pleasures of flight.

"Flying's not really that hard, you know," said the Quidditch professional, as she got within talking range of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"I know," he said, standing next to the broomstick assigned to him. "Up!"

Nothing happened.

"I guess we should start you off on the basics," Rowan said. "When you say 'Up!' to the broom, you should try to imagine it flying up and into your hand."

The boy gave her a look, then nodded and focused on the broom.

"Up!"

For a moment, the broomstick did not respond; then, it twitched in the grass before suddenly lifting from the ground and slapping against the boy's outstretched palm, then shot off like it was fired out of a cannon, crashing into the wall of the castle and fragmenting apart.

"I don't think brooms like me very much," the boy deadpanned, as other students ran from the rain of splintered wood falling out of the sky. "At least I didn't try to grab it this time, or it would have been me in the wall again."

"You just need practice," Rowan said encouragingly. "The first time I flew on a broom, I was terrified I'd fall off and break my neck, and when I did fall off, I hurt my ankle, but I never gave up and I ended up good enough to play in the League."

"I don't think I'd care to play Quidditch, but I see your point," Harry said.

"Good. Now let's try again."

**~ooOoo~**

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Colin, as he ran in front of Harry just as the latter entered the Hufflepuff common room. The first-year Hufflepuff had clearly been waiting for him.

"We need to stop meeting like this," said the Hermetic mage, reaching into his pocket and taking out a two-way radio, which he handed the younger boy. "Take this and contact me on the second channel if you ever need to find me; we'll use it to arrange meetings everyday to go over the results of your surveillance and switch out the battery."

"Thank you," said the blonde boy gratefully, before frowning. "I'm so sorry."

"About what?" asked the Hermetic mage.

"I tried to tail Dumbledore last night, but Filch caught me and now I've got detention, so I can't follow him today."

"Don't worry about it."

"I wish Filch wasn't around; if he wasn't, sneaking around at night would be so much easier."

"Things have a way of working themselves out."

**~ooOoo~**

Rowan Murphy wasn't sure what to expect from Olivia Baldursdottir after her first time teaching Harry Potter. Despite her patience and best efforts, Harry had yet to take to the sky on a broom, though he had gotten much better at getting brooms to not smash into walls after he called it into his hand, and that made her wonder how the daughter of the Boy-Who-Lived would fare.

To her surprise, Olivia was a complete natural, the broom obeying her like it was an extension of her body and will. While other students struggled to control their broomsticks, the first-year Hufflepuff was doing loops, rolls and twists that would make some of her colleagues in the league jealous, all while riding sidesaddle.

With that in mind, she paid the Norwegian girl little mind as she went from student to student, coaching them through how to improve their flying technique. Only when she heard shrieks of surprise did she look up, and she saw Olivia holding onto her broom with one hand as it raced sunwards, far too fast for the first-year to control.

"Here, girl!" Rowan shouted, and her broomstick, a vintage Moontrimmer she had purchased, restored, modified to suit her needs and then named _Cloudrunner_, flew into her hand from where it was leaning against the Hogwarts castle wall, flipping end over end through the air before she caught it and swung herself onto the ascending broom, aiming to catch the Norwegian girl before she got hurt from any number of things.

Suddenly, Olivia lost her hold on her broom and started to plummet groundwards; below her, Rowan heard gasps of horror coming from the students who could only watch and pushed _Cloudrunner_ to go faster, wanting more than anything to prevent an incident like the previous year's with Harry Potter to mar her tenure at Hogwarts, no matter how temporary it might be.

In midair, the broomstick Olivia had been riding performed a lazy eight, followed by a snap roll, then suddenly went into a steep dive, as though trying to catch its previous rider; before Rowan reached the falling girl, the broom had caught up to her, and the first-year Hufflepuff grabbed it with one hand, swinging herself back onto the broom with a flip that landed her in a sidesaddle position even as the broomstick hairpin turned into a rapid ascent.

As fast as _Cloudrunner_ could go, Rowan barely managed to catch up to Olivia as she finally leveled out and floated in the air in a leisurely manner, laying flat on her back with the broomstick resting against her spine, as though she was lazing about on a hammock.

"Olivia, you shouldn't do that, it's dangerous," Rowan called from a distance.

As if to punctuate her point, the Norwegian girl suddenly lost her balance, slipping off the broomstick, which seemed to suddenly lose all ability to stay aloft and plunge groundwards alongside her. Rather than panic, though, Rowan saw unadulterated pleasure in the girl's face as she plummeted groundward in freefall, and she dove _Cloudrunner_ after her, praying to Merlin she'd catch Olivia in time.

It turned out to be unnecessary, though, as the seemingly lifeless broomstick suddenly straightened out and accelerated into a dive until it was beneath her, catching the Norwegian lightly and cushioning the impact of her bottom landing on the seat by adjusting its descent to the girl regaining her seat.

"You don't need to worry, she's taking good care of me," the girl called to Rowan, who was in a state of shock, as she gave the broom she was seated on an affectionate pat; even as a professional Quidditch player, she had never seen such displays of skill with a broom, especially with a broom as old and battered as the one used at Hogwarts for flying lessons.

"How did you do that?" Rowan yelled to the girl.

"I told her what to do after I let go, and then I let go, and she did what I asked her to," Olivia shouted back. "You see, she didn't want to disappoint me."

"Well, I think what you did was amazing, and I've never seen anything like it before, but you shouldn't do that kind of thing," Rowan told the Norwegian. "It's very dangerous, and other students might try to copy you and end up hurting themselves."

"Okay, I'll go join Luna, then," Olivia agreed, rapidly descending until she adjacent to the blonde girl flying her broom languidly with a dreamy expression on her face.

Rowan considered recommending Olivia to the Hufflepuff Quidditch team but decided against it; as far as she could tell, the girl enjoyed the sensation of freefall far more than the thrill of flight, and she did not think the first-year Norwegian Hufflepuff had a disposition suitable for any of the positions on a Quidditch team, even if she had the talent to play any of them.

**~ooOoo~**

"Is this what you do for fun on the weekends?" Colin asked, looking around the room.

Though the seventh-year students from the previous semester had graduated, many students from the upper forms brought new students from their houses along to the gaming club's inaugural meeting of the new school year. After the club's success during the previous year, Harry had taken care to expand his collection of board and social games, not wanting to have to wear out as many decks of cards as he had the previous year, and with his two-way radio, Hermione in Ravenclaw, and Nevile and Fay in Gryffindor, communicating the location where the club would meet to those who wanted to attend was now a much easier task.

Having been taught _GUCS_ by Patience during the back half of August, Hermione had started a game with several other students, finding the rules-light and free-form nature of the system far more appealing to her peers than the highly granular and rules-heavy system that was _Dungeons & Dragons_.

Liv and Luna were with a small group of first-year students, playing a game of _Uno_, while Fay and Neville were floating around the club meeting, surreptitiously selling baked goods.

"This is where I come to unwind after a long week of lessons and studying," Harry lied. "I started this last year after playing _Battleship_ with one of our housemates and it drew a crowd, so I thought it'd be a great idea to get everybody interested together to enjoy each other's company and play a few games."

Colin looked around like he had his head on a swivel as Harry gave him a brief history of the club, gawking at the numerous out-of-uniform students gathered in the abandoned classroom, enjoying themselves without having to worry about inter-house relationships.

"Everyone here seems to be having fun," observed the first-year Hufflepuff.

"That's because they are," Harry said. "Everybody's here to play something or just hang out; there's no wrong way to enjoy your time here except starting a fight."

"Hey, Potter, who's the kid?" called a round-faced boy seated at table, playing Chinese chequers with five other students.

"This is Colin Creevey," Harry said, introducing the blonde boy. "He's new to Hogwarts."

"Hullo Colin," said the boy at the table, "Have you ever played Chinese chequers?"

The first-year Hufflepuff shook his head, and the round-faced boy immediately launched into an explanation of the game, which Colin nodded along to.

He was going to fit in just fine.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I meant for the title to be a play on _Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy_, but describing the four major characters featured in this chapter in ways that would immediately identify each while also juxtaposing them; Liv's methodology is in sharp contrast to Harry's, while Harry handles the Luna and the Colin in completely different ways.

Wand magic has always seemed extremely specific to me, where a spell does just one specific action. Enter Liv, who can see magic as it's being used and replicate the effect, even playing around with and altering it at will; anybody who sees that and doesn't understand it would rightfully be shocked by it, because it would seem like the rules are being broken.

I don't believe for a second that McGonagall's threat of kicking students out of Transfiguration has any teeth behind it; it's considered one of the core classes at Hogwarts, meaning students are required to take it every year, so I don't think she can actually expel a student from her class, which is mandatory, without also expelling the student from the school, and despite being Dumbledore's second, I just don't buy that she has that kind of authority. As for Liv's desk-pig skidding after she transforms it back into a desk, a pig can weight more than 700 pounds, which is way more than a desk would, hence conservation of momentum. Yes, there's a bit of science behind this story.

Incompetent teachers was a real sticking point in _Hermetic Arts_, so I wanted to demonstrate what an actual competent teacher would look like, and I created and introduced Rowan Murphy specifically for this reason. Unlike the other professors, who only really give lip service about caring about their students and never really demonstrated it, I wanted Rowan to act on it, rather than say anything about it.

While Hermione started learning tabletop RPGs with _Dungeons & Dragons_ and _Shadowrun_, two of the more rule-heavy and granular tabletop RPGs, most new players actually benefit from learning and playing simpler systems, because they're easier to learn and generally allow for more creativity; hell, when I'm introducing new players to tabletop RPG games, I start off with _Do Stuff_, a microlite nano-RPG that I can explain in the space of 5 minutes. The premise of _Do Stuff_ is simple: each player writes down five adjectives and a noun, which is that player's character, and then do stuff by using up an adjective to succeed when challenged by the GM, or fail any challenge and gain a new adjective of the player's choice, though the adjective should be related to the failed challenge in some way. Players win when they done all the stuff as determined by GM, and in doing so gain 1 XP, which they can then spend on buying another adjective.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me.


	14. Barking Dogs

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 14: Barking Dogs**

* * *

Harry decided he didn't like Gilderoy Lockhart.

It was an easy decision, one made after Lockhart interrupted a conversation he was having with Colin about surveilling Dumbledore and turned it into one about himself and Creevey getting a group photo of Harry and the professor together, before Lockhart pulled him to the side, lecturing him about how it was too early to be giving away signed pictures.

Harry wasn't even sure how they had wound up on that topic.

It was further affirmed during the first session of Defense Against the Dark Arts, which Harry had with when he sprang a surprise quiz on the class, of which none of the questions had to deal with Defense Against the Dark Arts and all were about the man's obvious favorite subject: himself.

Only when Lockhart had pulled the cover from the cage, revealing a cluster of electric blue creatures he called "Cornish pixies" that looked more like animated cartoon figurines than actual living creatures, did Harry realize the man might actually not be all there.

Shortly after the "professor" released the creatures, the Hermetic mage concluded Gilderoy Lockhart was an actual incompetent.

By that point, though, the classroom was pandemonium; the pixies had scattered quickly, throwing anything they could lift and otherwise tearing their way through the furnishings about as well as Harry would have were he to ransack the classroom, sending the students under their desks for cover, all while hanging Neville from a chandelier.

That was where Neville was dangling, nonchalantly enjoying a vanilla cupcake, when the bell that signaled the end of the lesson sounded and the students made a beeline for the door.

"Well, I'll ask the three of you to just nip the rest of them back into their cage," called Lockhart as he went out the door, closing it behind him and leaving Fay, Neville and Harry alone in a room with a pack of Cornish pixies.

"So, what's happening?" Neville asked, lighting a spliff and inhaling deeply, before starting in on another cupcake.

"What a mess," Fay said. "How're we going to get you down?"

"We could just ask the pixies nicely," the chubby Gryffindor suggested.

Harry and Fay exchanged looks; at this point, it was worth a try.

It was then they were interrupted by a familiar sound.

*_beep_*

"Whiplash Hunter, this is Wells Danger. What's your location? Over."

Harry pulled his two-way radio off his belt and brought it to his mouth.

*_beep*_

"Danger, I'm in two-twenty-seven, with Wildfire and Pilgrim. We've got a bit of a situation, over."

*_beep*_

"Whiplash Hunter, I'm on my way, out."

*_beep_*

"Whip, Rook, I'll be there too. Out."

"I guess everybody's going to be here," Fay said.

A beat of silence followed; then, the already broken window broke further as a brunette came smashing through it, glass shards slicing up her clothes but not even scratching her skin.

Surprised, Fay stumbled backwards, needing a moment before she recognized the newcomer.

"Liv! You scared me," said the Gryffindor girl.

"So, this," said the dragon-in-girl's-form, looking around the room from where she was crouched on the floor. "What the hell are these things?"

"Cornish pixies," Fay said.

"What, like 'Pixie', in your callsign?" Liv asked.

"I think so?" said the second-year girl, uncertain.

"Well, I like you better," said the dragon, slowly rising. Inhaling deeply for a long moment, she suddenly let out a wordless roar, causing the entire room to shake.

The Gryffindor boy came crashing off the chandelier, but was far more concerned with preserving the cleanliness of his cupcake and joint than landing softly.

All around the room, the pixies froze, staring at the dragon-in-girl's-form in shock for a moment; then, they hurriedly darted back into the cage, the final one shutting and latching the door behind it.

"And that's that," Harry said, dropping the cloth back over the cage.

"Did I miss it?" asked Hermione, as she burst in through the door. "I missed it, didn't I?"

"Something like that," the Norwegian Ridgeback said. "Pixies got loose, so I scared them back into their cage."

"He did something like that in our lesson too," Hermione said, reaching into her pocket and retrieving a small notepad and checking something in it. "What spell did he try to use to quell the pixies?" she asked.

"Pepsi something," Harry said. "Didn't work."

"That's another one," said the Ravenclaw.

"Another what?" Fay asked.

"Another discrepancy," Hermione said. "In _Marauding with Monsters_, he clearly detailed how he used a spell to capture Cornish pixies, but he couldn't even do it here."

"How many do you have right now?" Harry asked.

"Seventy-two," answered the Ravenclaw. "I was re-reading _Break with a Banshee_ when I noticed that specific details in it either didn't line up with or directly contradicted what he wrote in _Gadding with Ghouls _about dealing with _strigoi_. Once I saw that, I couldn't stop seeing all the places where his specific details just didn't match, so I started taking notes, because I figured it'd be useful later."

"Well, if you ever need to discredit him, that'll be useful," Harry said. "I already have a journo in my pocket, so it comes to that, we can leak it to her and she can write up the hit piece."

"Is _that_ why you endorsed Skeeter?" Hermione asked.

"Not all wars are fought with guns and bullets," the Hermetic mage answered.

"And the pen _is_ mightier than the sword," Hermione agreed.

"That really depends on the sword, and don't go around trying to parry one with a pen, because that's just, for practical reasons, all kinds of stupid," the second-year Hufflepuff said. "Unless you're Liv and you've got a Parker, in which case, whoever's got the sword was already in the drek and just didn't know it."

"And I've got one of those," the dragon said.

"So, no swords if I ever go up against you, got it," said Fay.

"Just don't go up against her," Harry advised. "She can probably melt your magic before you can even cast it, and physically, she might as well be Wonder Woman."

"When you put it like that, does she even have any weaknesses?" Fay asked.

"Oh, like I'm going to tell you," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "She's my daughter, you know?"

**~ooOoo~**

"You filthy little Mudblood!"

Harry wasn't sure what had caused the pejorative to come out of the peroxide-blonde Slytherin's lips with such conviction, as he had just arrived through the door when he heard it, but he could see Hermione's eyes flash in anger even from a distance and quickly snapped his fingers twice, shooting his "daughter" a glance and pointing towards the Ravenclaw.

In a blur of motion nobody seemed to notice, the dragon was besides Hermione, one hand on her shoulder, restraining her from doing anything foolish.

"Let me go!" Hermione growled to the dragon.

"Barking dogs, Hermione, barking dogs," Harry said, as he calmly stepped up next to her.

"What?" asked the Ravenclaw, confused.

"If a dog on the street barks at you, do you bark back? Of course not. It's just a dog; it doesn't know any better, and you're a person, with words and thoughts, not a mere beast who knows of nothing but slaking its every impulse."

"Potter, are you calling me a dog?" Malfoy snarled.

"No, I'm comparing you to one," Harry said, making a looping gesture with his forefinger. "There's a difference; it's subtle, but I'm sure you'll get it when your IQ jumps ten points."

The second-year Slytherin had to be held back as he lunged at the Boy-Who-Lived, spittle flying from his mouth as he snarled.

"We should go," Harry said, nodding in the direction away from Malfoy.

"You coward! Take your pet Mudblood and run!" jeered the peroxide-blonde boy.

A hushed silence fell upon the room as Harry turned back towards the Slytherin, a look of deathly calm on his face. Then, it turned into a mocking smile, as he mock-bowed.

"As you wish, Lord Malfoy," said the Boy-Who-Lived, voice dripping with sarcasm, gesturing outwards with both hands as a bowed slightly.

Then, he was gone, dragging the Ravenclaw with him.

**~ooOoo~**

"Why didn't you stand up to him?" Hermione demanded of Harry, as soon as they were in an abandoned classroom.

"Barking dogs," Harry said.

"You _have_ to stand up to Malfoy!" the Ravenclaw spat, her anger clearly building to a crescendo. "You're the Boy-Who-Lived! If you don't do it, then who will?"

"You clearly did," Harry said. "Look where that got you."

"Well, if your mum and dad could see you now, they'd regret dying so you could live!"

As soon as those words left her lips, Hermione knew she had gone too far, and her hands instinctively flew up to cover her mouth as her expression took on a look of horror.

"That's too far, Hermione."

The Ravenclaw turned to see Fay and Neville standing at the door, both with looks of disbelief and consternation. In the moment, she realized they were meant to meet in the room to compare notes about the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized tearfully. "I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Harry said calmly.

"I don't know what came over me; I'm so, so sorry," the Ravenclaw said, then stopped, comprehending the reaction of the second-year Hufflepuff. "You're not angry with me?"

"We're friends," said the Hermetic mage. "Sometimes, friends just lose their shit with each other, and when that happens, they forgive each other, because that's what friendship is. I mean, they're just words; sometimes, you've just got to vent, and the only person there is your friend."

"But what I said about your parents was horrible and over the line," Hermione said. "I shouldn't have said those things."

"Danger, they're dead and I never knew them, so I don't care," Harry said.

"But, but…," Hermione stuttered.

"Let it go, Danger," Harry said. "You lost your shit, said something you didn't mean. It happens."

"But that's the thing: when I said it, I meant it," said the Ravenclaw, expression guilty.

A moment of silence followed. Then, Harry shrugged.

"I forgive you."

"Just like that?" Hermione asked.

"Just like that."

"That's not okay!" the Ravenclaw shouted. "You should be angry with me!"

"This isn't about you, this is about _us_, and for our friendship to survive, it can't just be you forgiving me whenever I do bad things to you," Harry said.

"You do bad things because it's necessary," Hermione protested. "I said something cruel to hurt you on purpose!"

"I wasn't hurt," said the Hermetic mage, "and unless this is you breaking up with me, I really don't see the point of fighting over this."

"How can you be so calm?!" Hermione demanded.

"I don't feel much these days," admitted Harry. "Emotionally speaking, I mean; still hurts like hell whenever Liv kicks my ass."

"I don't know how to respond to that," Hermione admitted.

"Then don't. Sometimes, no response is the right response.

"So, tell us about the contradictions you found in the bakebrain's books."

**~ooOoo~**

Potions was Potions, except this year, it was with the Slytherins and the oily-haired potions professor seemed even more antagonistic than before.

It didn't really bother Harry; even though Snape continued to harass him in class and take away points for the most minor of infractions, including dozens of points every lesson for his failure to use quill and parchment alone, Hufflepuff's refusal to participate in the House Cup rendered his punishments toothless annoyances rather than something that would see the Boy-Who-Lived ostracized by his peers.

The Potions master also gave points to the Slytherins for the most minor of accomplishments, which seemed to keep the students from the house of green and silver in a very good mood. It also made them less prone to work hard, with how easily they were given praise.

**~ooOoo~**

"Harry, I think you should see this," said Colin, intercepting the Boy-Who-Lived as he entered the Hufflepuff common room from the main floors of Hogwarts Castle.

"Let's use your room," Harry said, and the first-year Hufflepuff nodded.

It only took the two a few minutes to reach the blonde boy's dormitory room, and once they were inside, Colin closed the door behind them, before going over to one of the beds and laying out a number of Polaroid pictures on it.

"Is this what I think it is?" Harry asked.

In the photographs were Dumbledore and Snape, meeting and arguing, in a place Harry didn't recognize.

"It's Dumbledore and Snape, arguing about you," Colin confirmed.

"Where'd you take this?" asked the second-year.

"In Dumbledore's office."

"And you didn't get caught?"

"I borrowed the Invisibility Cloak."

"Good thinking."

"Thanks."

"So, what were they arguing about, specifically?"

"Dumbledore was telling Snape to take away house points to make sure you were isolated from the rest of Hufflepuff," Colin said. "Snape pointed out that our house wasn't participating in the House Cup, but Dumbledore kept insisting we were participating whether we wanted to or not, and it was of utmost importance you cost our house a lot of points."

"Of course he did," Harry said, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation, once again reminding himself that the boarding school was run by somebody who had been conspiring against him for years. "Did you get out clean?"

"I think so?" said the blonde. "I waited until Snape was leaving, then followed him out."

There was a pause, before Colin spoke again.

"You were right, you know? Meeting my heroes _is_ disappointing. It's not just you, either; Dumbledore isn't nearly as smart as I thought he'd be, and Gilderoy Lockhart isn't the expert in magical creatures his books made him seem."

"Ain't that a bitch?"

**~ooOoo~**

"There's something in the castle walls," Liv announced one evening, as she entered the shared bedroom, holding hands with Luna.

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked.

"I heard a voice I didn't recognize speaking snake, talking about killing," the dragon explained. "There wasn't anybody around except me and Luna, so that leads me to think it's has to have come from inside the walls."

"Could be an illusion," Harry suggested.

"They'd have to know how to speak snake to cast an illusion that speaks snake," Liv argued.

"You're right; didn't think of that," Harry said. "What're the odds somebody here speaks snake?"

"Somebody who speaks snake is called a 'Parselmouth'," Luna said, a serene smile on her lips. "People say it's the mark of a dark wizard, but I know you and Harry aren't."

"Well, Harry and I speak everything," the dragon said, with a shrug.

"I'm actually pretty dark," Harry said. "But that's more in the sense of being cynical."

"Anyways, I thought you should know," Liv said.

"All right, thanks," Harry said. "I'll keep an ear out."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I've always been weirded out by how the breaking point in the Lily Potter and Severus Snape relationship was over an insult that popped out of one party's mouth after being in a harrowing situation; in any true friendship, the parties involved would understand that, sometimes, somebody will say something horrific in the heat of the moment as they're blowing off steam, and the friendship can survive it, because that's what friends do, accept each other at their worse and get over it.

Somehow, Colin Creevey already has better tradecraft than Severus Snape, whose only qualification for being a double agent seems to be, "Well, the BBEG can't read my mind."

A shorter chapter that calls back on a few things and sets up a couple things down the line.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their hard work. With the current outbreak of the Wuhan Area Respiratory Syndrome (WARS), I hope them and you all remain safe and healthy until the pandemic ends. Feel free to review or PM.


	15. Ribbons

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 15: Ribbons**

* * *

Harry didn't see it himself, as he hadn't attended the Halloween Feast, instead spending that precious time in research and development, but the talk that followed the incident made it impossible not to hear what had happened.

From what he could gather, someone had written something on a wall near the Great Hall about enemies of the Heir and the Chamber of Secrets being opened, then left the caretaker's cat hanging from a nearby torch, petrified, but not in the sense of being turned to stone, only made unable to move or respond to stimulus.

The part regarding the Heir was clearly a threat, and though the Hermetic mage had no idea who said Heir was, he was wary of any sort of threat, particularly one that came with a message in the form of a victim.

Still, this was a situation he could play to his advantage.

**~ooOoo~**

Argus Filch was found in his chambers the night the Chamber of Secrets was opened, reeking of alcohol and hanged from a noose made from an old belt. He had left a hastily scrawled note lamenting the petrification of his cat, his beloved sole companion, and the unbearable loneliness of being without her, several empty bottles of firewhisky strewn throughout his room.

No one thought to check the contents of the bottles at his feet, though it was unlikely any wizard who would have thought to check would know what flunitrazepam was.

Lessons were canceled the next day, and a small memorial service was held for the caretaker of Hogwarts Castle, though the only people to attend were the school's staff, even if many only did so out of a sense of obligation. Argus Filch was not well-liked by students.

That night, Colin Creevey followed Dumbledore for several hours until the headmaster finally retired to his quarters, taking photograph after photograph with the Polaroid camera Harry had gifted him. It was surprisingly quiet, but that was to be expected of a gift from the Boy-Who-Lived.

It had become easier to move around Hogwarts Castle after dark.

**~ooOoo~**

It was Liv who came to him the next morning with the idea for a solution to the problem.

"We should make Ribbons," the dragon told the Hermetic mage two days after the incident, suddenly putting down the controller of her Super Nintendo.

"Come again now?" Harry asked, confused.

"Ribbons!" Liv reiterated. "It's a helm in _Final Fantasy II_ that grants its wearing complete immunity from status ailments."

"No shit?" asked the Boy-Who-Lived, and the dragon nodded. "That'd be immensely useful."

"If you just make the first one, I'll mass produce them," Liv said.

"You can do that?" Luna asked, and both of her roommates nodded. "Cool."

"Why do you want to do this?" Harry asked.

"You taught me it's my duty to protect people from the magical threats they're unprepared for," Liv said. "What good would I be if I can't even protect the other students here at Hogwarts?"

"You _are_ aware this is going to require a lot of legwork, right?" asked the Hermetic mage. "That means less time to play video games until we've got this worked out."

"I'll do what I have to," the dragon said. "You've always told me nothing worth doing is easy."

"I'll help out wherever I can too," Luna offered.

"You don't have to do this," Liv said.

"But I want to," said the first-year Hufflepuff girl. "You're my best friend, and if you're going to do something that'll protect everybody here at Hogwarts, I can't think of a better way to spend my time than helping you do it."

"Thank you," the dragon said gratefully, before turning back to the Hermetic mage. "Tell me what you need me to do."

"Me too," Luna said.

"All right then," Harry said. "Liv, I need you to tell me everything you know about Ribbons, and Luna, I need you to go to the library and borrow every book you can find about protective runes; tell Madam Pince it's me asking, but only through written notes, because she doesn't like it when you talk in there."

"Got it!" said the blonde brightly, pulling on a long skirt, a flowery blouse and some comfortable shoes before departing the room.

**~ooOoo~**

As much as Harry did not enjoy enchantment, it was a skill he had come to terms with as being an essential piece of his repertoire. After all, it gave him the magical items he used every day, and it provided him with his permanent mental defenses.

Luna proved to be a skilled researcher, intuitively making leaps of logic without needing to overthink the approach or the result. Combined with Liv's report of the Ribbon's capabilities, Harry quickly determined exactly what was needed to create the prototype of the Ribbon.

To the Hermetic mage's knowledge, no synthetic matter had the ability to hold magical power, so his only choices for the textile that would be the base of the prototype would have to be an organic fabric. From his own library, he learned ribbons were traditionally made from materials such as silk, cotton or jute, and, on a hunch, sent out for a bolt of undyed mulberry silk produced by _Bombyx mori_ silkworms, which he learned were the highest quality silk through consulting with Karen through coded letters; when his purchase arrived, he was pleased to find that it could hold Astral power without a problem, even if its capacity for it wasn't particularly high.

Acquiring the proper materials to create a dye for the cloth was the next task, and knowing the Ribbon needed to protect against poison, blindness, involuntary muteness, involuntary changes in form, curses, petrification and instant death gave him a place to start. Amethyst was known as a stone that protected against poison, so it was the first gemstone Harry would be using, while petrified wood was said to help those struggling with being stuck, the closest thing he could find to a material which protected against petrification. For blindness, he procured phenacite, apophyllite, green aventurine, citrine and golden tiger's eye, all stones said to promote eye health and increase visual acuity, while his existing store of fluorite would provide for the defense against curses, and for the inability to speak, aquamarine and blue kyanite, the latter of which was known as the "Speaker's Stone".

Grinding down the gemstones, which he had owled to him through his friends at the game shop, Harry mixed it with water until he formed a multi-colored pigment that could hold Astral power when he passed it through it; when the foot-long strip of silk he submerged in the dye dried, it had a beautiful shimmering look, and its capacity for holding magical energy had expanded greatly, thanks in no small part to the gemstones it was now rich with.

Runes and symbols were something of a speciality for the Hermetic mage; in creating the many enchantments in his life, Harry had become quite well-versed in ancient Norse runes and the symbology of various dead religions and ancient languages, thus making the runes portion of the enchantment the easiest by far. He started with the Eye of Horus, just like with his tattoo, and then added the ankh, the Egyptian symbol of eternal life, for defense against instant death.

_Algiz_, ᛉ, the rune he had previously used as a layer in his mental defense, would serve well enough as a defense against status ailments; due to its existence as a rune of protection, it would bolster whatever defense he set in the ribbon. _Gebo_, ᚷ, the rune used by Egill to protect against the poisoned cup, joined the other Norse runes Harry would use for the prototype.

Harry added the tree of life to the symbols for the Ribbon; while he had used it previously in his tattoo as a symbol of wisdom and protection, here he was using it as a symbol of immortality, as another defense against effects causing instantaneous death.

The most difficult thing to find a protection for, Harry realized after much research, was being polymorphed against one's will; it simply wasn't something ancient runes or sigils were prepared to protect against, as almost every such instance led to a quest to break the curse. It also meant he would need to invent a rune specifically for the kind of protection he needed.

He started with a stylized image of the sun, a circle with an aura of flames around it as its rays; the ancient Greeks had a proverb, _ουδέν κρυπτόν υπό τον ήλιον_, meaning, "nothing is hidden under the sun", and it linked the sun with the truth. Within it, he added the Vitruvian Man, a depiction of the human body in its ideal proportions. Hopefully, the combined sigil would represent truth of the body and ward off any outside attempts to change its form.

The implementation of the symbology into the fabric was a delicate task; as it was an article of clothing, and was thus likely to be washed, he could not simply draw it onto the material. Thus, he instead turned a silver piece into fine silver thread like he had when crafting Liv's wand, then carefully outlined each design on the textile before meticulously embroidering the designs onto the ribbon with the silver thread, all while filling the enchantment with Astral power. Once again, what he had learned while in the home of his aunt and uncle came in use; as he was only ever given his cousin's hand-me-down clothes, he had learned to sew and repair all his garments, a proficiency with needle and thread that served him well now as he manufactured the ribbon.

All the while, the dragon watched him work.

**~ooOoo~**

"It's incredible," Liv said, turning over the completed Ribbon in her hands. "The Astral energy coming off of it is unlike anything else you've ever made before."

"We still need to test it," Harry said warily. "I'm not going to put that out into production until I'm sure it'll protect against status ailments like it's meant to."

"What do we need?" Luna asked.

"Small animals to run tests on."

"I'll get them," the dragon volunteered. "Will rabbits or mice work?"

"Of course."

"I'll be back, then."

"Where are you going?" asked the Hufflepuff girl.

"To the Forbidden Forest, where mice and rabbits live."

**~ooOoo~**

Verifying the prototype's functionality took until the first Friday of November simply because Harry wanted to ensure Liv and Luna could both replicate the outcome of any experiments he performed on the small animals the dragon brought back from the Forbidden Forest as subjects, but when the results of all the tests were in, it strongly suggested Harry had succeeded in creating the Ribbon the Norwegian Ridgeback had proposed.

The next phase of testing was trials on a sapient subject, and though Harry would have used himself for the experiments, Liv argued otherwise, suggesting her draconic physiology would make her more resilient to the harmful effects of the tests they would be running, so, should the Ribbon fail to work properly, they would have longer before the status ailment became a serious problem, hopefully enough time for them to find a solution without visiting the hospital wing.

Only after Liv, with the Ribbon laced in her hair, withstood_ blindness_, _cloudkill_, _hold monster_, _silence, 15' radius_, _death spell_, _polymorph other_ and _flesh to stone_ did they move onto the next stage, where they repeated the tests on the Hermetic mage wearing the Ribbon. The results were the same, with Harry emerging from the experiments unscathed.

Certain the Ribbon would function as intended, Liv began to produce them en masse, using materials Harry previously acquired to manufacture them at a rate comparable to a sweatshop worker, producing what took Harry hours to create in a matter of tens of minutes. Even with time taken up by classes, physical training and her own study of mundane subjects, which Harry insisted she learn to better understand the normal world, the dragon managed to produce a dozen Ribbons by day's end, enough for the Hermetic mage to gather his friends and allies in a secluded classroom that hadn't been used in weeks for distribution.

"What is this?" Hermione asked, as Liv passed out the foot-long silk strip embroidered with silver sigils and runes, turning the item over in her hands.

"It's a Ribbon," the dragon explained. "Since we don't know what petrified the cat, and it came with a threat, Bear and I thought it best we all have insurance against whatever caused the paralysis or petrification, as well as any other forms of status ailments we could think of, so it'll render you safe from petrification, paralysis, instant death, poison, blindness, silence and having your shape changed involuntarily."

"Where did you get this?" Fay asked.

"Liv made them," the Boy-Who-Lived said flatly. "Took a bit of research and a lot of testing, which Dia helped with, thank you for that, but we're pretty certain it works."

"How certain?" asked the Ravenclaw.

The Hermetic mage and the Norwegian Ridgeback shared a look. "About ninety-five percent," said the Hufflepuff boy, pulling a number out of thin air.

"If this does what you say it does, it would be more powerful than the most powerful of protection artefacts," Neville said, in a rare moment of insight unclouded by the clouds of cannabis smoke he usually smelled of.

"We plan to mass produce them, for sale," Liv said. "We won't be charging much, just enough to cover costs and turn a small profit."

"How much will you be selling them for?" Hermione asked.

"A gold piece sounds reasonable," Harry said. "We have to convert a silver piece for the thread used to embroider in the sigils and runes, and then there's the cost for the powdered gemstones that went into the dye, the high-quality silk that's the fabric base and the time we've invested in research and production."

"Some of the poorer students won't be able to afford a Galleon," Neville protested.

"Who the hell can't afford five quid for something that's pretty much guaranteed to save their life?" Harry asked.

"The Weasleys," said the two Gryffindors simultaneously.

"Who?" Liv asked.

"Slottin' who?" Harry asked at the same time.

"The gingers?" Hermione said. "You threw one of them down a flight of steps last year?"

"Them? They can't afford five quid?" Harry asked.

"They don't have pounds sterling," Fay said. "They've a pure-blood family who have never lived in the normal world, so they don't have money from there."

"Sucks to be them, then," Harry said, shrugging. "They could always just borrow it from somebody, or barring that, selling two silver pieces on the black market, which should get them six quid plus change. It's either that, or they can owe us an undetermined favor, to be called in at any time in the future."

"How are we supposed to wear these?" Colin asked. "I see Liv and Luna have theirs braided in their hair, but what about us boys? Our hair isn't long enough for that."

Harry rolled up the sleeve of his robe-like coat, revealing the ribbon tied around his left bicep. "We actually asked this during testing, and as far as we can tell, as long as you're wearing it on your person, it'll provide protection. You could even pin it on your clothes, for all that matters."

Hurriedly those gathered in the classroom put on the ribbons before the meeting degenerated into small talk and introductions, as Colin had yet to truly spend time with the two Gryffindors or the Ravenclaw.

"No matter what, though, use the buddy system," Harry said.

"The 'buddy system'?" Fay asked.

"Make sure to travel with at least one other person," Harry explained. "That way, if something happens to one of you, at least there'll be somebody else to report back what happened."

"Can I have a Ribbon for Su-Jin, then?" Hermione asked. "She's been helping me research the Chamber of Secrets since Professor Binns brought it up in History of Magic, and I want her to be safe too."

The dragon and the Hermetic mage shared a look, then Liv handed the Ravenclaw an additional Ribbon. "This is the only free one you'll get; after this, you have to pay for any extras."

"What about me?" asked Fay. "If she gets one, I want one too."

"Fine, but it's one free one each," grumbled the dragon, her avarice showing just a bit as she begrudgingly handed a strip of embroidered silk to each of the Gryffindors, but was then refused by the Hufflepuffs.

"I couldn't take it," Colin said. "You're both already doing so much for me."

"I don't need another one when you're the one I'll be with," Luna told Liv.

**~ooOoo~**

"Harry! You need to see this!"

Colin had just burst in through the door of the dormitory room shared by Harry, Liv and Luna, covered in a sheen of sweat and face flushed from exercise; seeing the two naked girls, however, caused the blonde boy to stop in his tracks, covering his eyes.

"You're naked!" Colin exclaimed.

"You're out of breath," Liv said.

"What?" asked the first-year boy.

"Sorry, I thought we were playing 'state the obvious'," said the dragon.

"We are?" Luna asked blithely. "Well, then, Harry's right fit."

"Ewww! That's my dad you're talking about!" the Norwegian Ridgeback said, shoving her friend playfully with both hands, sending her tumbling onto the bed before pouncing on her.

"Could you please put on some clothes?" Colin pleaded.

"Why? This is our room, and Harry doesn't seem to mind," Liv said, as she tickled Luna, who squirmed and giggled.

"Harry, please make them put something on," the first-year boy begged.

"Why? It's just the human body," Harry said. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about.

"So, what's so important you had to basically kick down the door?"

"I saw it! I saw what petrified Mrs. Norris," said the boy photographer, his eyes still covered with his hands. "It was a huge snake!"

"And how did you know it petrified Mrs. Norris?" Harry inquired.

"Because I was with Marilyn, and she got petrified!"

"Tell me exactly what happened," Harry said, suddenly serious.

As it had transpired, Colin had been tailing Dumbledore and had gotten pictures of him leaving the library with an enormous stack of books when he ran into the older girl; they had been chatting and walking down the corridor together, returning to the Hufflepuff common room, the girl checking her makeup in a compact, when the girl suddenly fell silent. Colin had then turned around to check on her and found her frozen in mid-step, eyes still fixed on the mirror in her hand. Behind her loomed a giant snake, and Colin had instinctively taken a picture with the camera that was always in his hands, the flash from the camera blinding the creature long enough for the first-year boy to make his escape.

"That's a humongous slottin' snake," said Harry, as he looked over the photograph Colin had presented as evidence. "You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely," said the boy.

"I don't like it, but I think you should report this to Dumbledore," Harry said.

"Why don't you like it?" asked the first-year boy.

"I don't trust Dumbledore," said the boy. "Last year, he was involved in the gauntlet to the Stone, and he hired Quirrell, who was possessed by Voldemort."

"Wait, what?" Colin asked, not sure he had heard correctly.

Luna was as serene as ever, quietly drawing a picture.

"Last year, Dumbledore had the Philosopher's Stone stashed on site in the castle, and set up a bunch of obstacles that a first-year student could get through in front of it," explained the Hermetic Mage. "He also hired Quirrell as the Defense professor, even though Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort."

"Who's Voldemort?" Colin asked, confused.

"You-Know-Who, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named," Luna said.

"You seem awfully calm," the photographer said.

"It is what it is," said Luna with shrugging.

"Isn't she awesome?" Liv asked, and Luna grinned widely, kissing the dragon on the cheek. "See?".

"So, what, you think Dumbledore knew Quirrell was possessed by the dark lord, and he just let him into Hogwarts anyways?" Colin asked, flushing bright red.

"It's possible _and_ probable," Harry said, ignoring the skinship. "Given that, I don't believe he'd do the right thing even if you reported the attack to him, but you don't really have a lot of options."

"I'm going to report it, even if he does nothing," Colin said, steeling himself. "It's the right thing to do."

"Wait!" Liv said, stopping Colin in mid-step. Going over to the boy, the dragon straightened his tousled hair, then kissed him on the forehead. "For luck," she told him, as he blushed an even deeper shade of pink at being so close to a naked female form.

"Th-thanks," stammered the photographer, backing out of the door and closing it behind him.

"What'd you do?" Harry asked.

"If you don't trust Dumbledore, then I don't either," the dragon said. "I replicated the magic of your tattoo and wrapped the effect around his head. It won't last more than a day or two, but while it's there, he'll be safe from having his mind read and his memories manipulated."

"Clever," said the Hermetic mage. "I like it."

"I thought you might."

**~ooOoo~**

Colin Creevey silently seethed to himself as he walked back to his room. He had believed Dumbledore was a great and just man, but what he had just experienced had brought that illusion crashing down on his head like a tonne of bricks.

He had gone to the headmaster to report what had happened with the best of intentions, but as soon as he had finished relating what he had experienced to the headmaster, he was being told he did not know what he had seen; when he showed the wizard the picture he had taken of the giant snake to prove he was telling the truth, the bespectacled, bearded wizard seized the photograph, tore it to shreds and then doubled down, petulantly accusing the first-year Hufflepuff boy of lying and repeatedly insisting there could be no such thing as a giant snake living at Hogwarts, as Hogwarts was the safest place in the world.

Then, to add insult to injury, the headmaster had threatened to expel him should he continue to lie and make up stories about a giant snake petrifying students.

By the time he left the headmaster's office, Colin Creevey was fuming.

Harry was right; meeting his heroes _was_ disappointing.

But Harry was different. Even if he wasn't the beacon of shining light Colin had expected he would be, the Boy-Who-Lived still proved to be smart and insightful, and though he had wondered why Harry had wanted him to surveil the headmaster when he had first asked, the first-year Hufflepuff now understood why: Dumbledore was not to be trusted with anything.

Still, he didn't want to be expelled from Hogwarts.

Harry would have a plan.

But first, he was going to find that fucking snake and take even more pictures.

**~ooOoo~**

Back-channeling the story of the incident had been a great idea; by starting a rumor about what had happened and then dropping the photographs Colin had taken the night after meeting Dumbledore in strategic locations, Harry had gotten the entire school abuzz with whispers and speculation, all while keeping his surveillance asset's name out of it.

It had also gotten students asking Colin how he had escaped petrification, and he was more than happy to show inquirers the Ribbon he had worn as that had kept him safe. That was all it took to turn the Ribbon business into a profitable one for Liv, as student after student came to her to acquire one, killing the trade in amulets and talismans all while Liv ended up sitting on a small pile of gold and favors.

She did not, however, receive any visits from any gingers in scarlet and gold.

He later heard through the rumor mill that Dumbledore dismissed the students choosing to wear the Ribbon for protection as a "fad" and concluded, once and for all, that the headmaster was never to be trusted with anything with even an inkling of import.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I just love Harry never being in the Great Hall for any of the major incidents. It completely fits his character.

Another one bites the dust. You had to see this one coming after the incident in "Prodigy Diligent Asset Friend", with the way Harry tends to deal with obstructions. Flunitrazepam is also known as Rohypnol, and was first discovered in 1962 and first saw medical use in 1974.

Like I said before, everybody's a nerd about something, and in Liv's case, her fascination with video games has very real implications within the story. The fact she still wants to help people, despite being raised mostly by Harry thus far, speaks more to her character than his, even if how she tackles tasks are probably much more in his style; after all, there's no reason she can't make something incredibly protective _and_ also make a few pounds doing it.

In the actual creation of the item, I wanted to include the beginnings of Harry's magic progressing beyond just copying and using only things that already exists, because creating his own elements of magic is the next step in his process. That it works the way it does has something to do with the way magic works in this version of the Harry Potter universe. There's was never any doubt the Ribbon would be very powerful; the paradigm that Harry and Liv operate at is just something completely different than what's already existing by virtue of their ignorance of them.

I wanted to include an in-story way to show the disparity of wealth between the magical world and the normal one; while a Galleon is considered extremely valuable in the magical world, it's cost to a normal person is five pounds according to word of god, which would buy a little more than seven pounds of apples at the time, making it an amount of money most normal people could easily afford for something as powerful as the Ribbon.

It's not that this version of Dumbledore, who is not nearly as clever as he thinks he is, is a bad person; he's just bought into his own hype as well as the hype of Hogwarts, and is now going "La la la la la, I can't hear you!" and sticking his fingers in his ear when shown otherwise. I guess it's veering into Dumbledore bashing? I can't really tell, at this point, but it just feels consistent with how I wrote him in the first book.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic at large, stay safe.


	16. Duel Monster, Part Deux

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 16: Duel Monster, Part Deux**

* * *

"I can't find anything in the library about the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione grumbled on the same day the head of Hufflepuff went around and took down the names of those students staying at Hogwarts over Christmas break, and Harry had put his down, even though he had no intentions of staying on campus during the two-week period between terms. "Nothing on the monster that allegedly lives there, either."

It was one of the few times since Harry had told her she needed to do her own research and development for the Hermetic arts that Hermione had joined Harry in an abandoned classroom to work on the form of magic not formally taught at the school; most days, she either hunkered down in the school's library or borrowed the Hufflepuff's portable one for her own research, and while she was steadily developing Hermetic spells that worked for her, Harry noticed they had very specific effects and replicated the most basic magic from _Dungeons & Dragons_, like _light_ or _wizard mark_; beyond her original spell for personal magical flight, she had yet to begin attempting to develop magic on her own that emulated more advanced magic, and Harry wondered whether it was due to caution or fear.

The Hermetic mage recalled something Colin had told him the previous month.

"The night Colin saw that huge slotting snake, he was tailing the headmaster and saw him taking a gigantic stack of books out of the library," Harry said.

"And you think those were the books that had to do with the Chamber of Secrets or the beast that resides therein?" Hermione asked.

"Could be," the Hermetic mage said. "Otherwise, the timing feels too coincidental."

"But why would Dumbledore do such a thing?" Hermione asked.

"Remember last year, when he would not allow Madam Pince to assist students researching Flamel?" Harry reminded the Ravenclaw, and she nodded. "Or that he employed Quirrell as the professor of Defense, even though he was possessed by the big bad evil guy?"

"What are you saying, exactly?" Hermione asked.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he's involved, in one way or another," said the Boy-Who-Lived.

"I really hope he isn't," the Ravenclaw said, worried. "Do you have any ideas on how I could find out more information about the Chamber of Secrets or the beast within it? Binns dismissed it out of hand as a myth, and all the relevant books are missing from the library."

"What have you found in my library?" Harry asked.

"Not much," Hermione admitted. "Without any sort of card catalogue, there's not much I can really do to look up the subject, and, as extensive as your collection is, books written by magicals usually don't include indexes, so it's kind of hard to dig through every single book to find every minor detail."

"What do you have?" asked the Hufflepuff.

"Right now, only speculation and suspicion," said the second-year girl. "I know Slytherin has an affinity for snakes, which is why it's both the symbol of his house and on his heraldry, and he was said to be a Parselmouth, so it'd make sense he'd choose a snake or serpent as the creature he kept in the Chamber of Secrets, if it exists, since he'd be able to communicate with it, but I can't find any sort of proof that would confirm the theory."

"Well, if there's really a Chamber of Secrets, there's a pretty good chance it's been opened before," Harry said. "Magicals are pretty long-lived; you might be able to gain some information by writing Hogwarts alumni and asking about it."

"That's a great idea," Hermione said, nodding.

"I'd suggest writing Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws first," continued the Hermetic mage. "With the Hufflepuffs, mention that students have been petrified again and play to their sense of loyalty and desire to help other people, and with Ravenclaws…"

"I'll tell them I'm doing research for a project and play to their desire to pass on knowledge," said the bushy-haired girl. "Thanks!"

"Null sweat, chummer," Harry said.

**~ooOoo~**

"I want to try the dueling club," Liv announced one afternoon mid-December.

"What's that now?" Harry asked.

"Liv and I saw a parchment on the notice board announcing the start of a dueling club, with the first session being for tonight," Luna explained.

"You do realize you could pretty much smoke anybody at this school, right?" the Hermetic mage asked the dragon.

"It'd be fun," said the Norwegian Ridgeback. "I'd love to see how witches and wizards integrate magic with physical combat."

"Actually, that's a point of interest for me too," Harry admitted. "Last time I got into it with a wizard, I kind of just threw my wand at the fragface, then tripped him and sat on him. I mean, I was crushing his windpipe too, so I'm pretty sure I won, but it wasn't much of an experience."

The Boy-Who-Lived mentally checked his schedule and decided he could afford to take a night off from the research and development of his Hermetic magic; he had hit a wall in researching higher level magic and was currently perplexed by _polymorph any object_, a spell so broadly functional he had trouble figuring out the necessary visualization to make it work half the time even though he had a foundation of lesser, similar spells like _alter self_ and _polymorph other_ already in his repertoire.

"Let's do it," Harry agreed. "I could use a break from research."

"Yay!" Luna exclaimed. "We're going to the dueling club!"

**~ooOoo~**

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all, in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works."

Hermione's hand shot up as soon as Lockhart finished declaring himself in charge of the club, and the Defense professor nodded. "Yes, young lady?" he asked.

"Would that be the times you defended yourself against the _strigoi_ in _Break with a Banshee_ or _Gadding with Ghouls_, the time you fended off Cornish pixies in _Marauding with Monsters_, the times you fought off chupacabras in _Voyages with Vampires_ or _Magical Me_, the times you battled the tarasque in _Magical Me_, or the times you encountered manticore in _Holidays with Hags_ or _Gadding with Ghouls_?" asked the Ravenclaw, consulting the memo pad in her hand.

"Yes," Lockhart said, smiling brightly, and the bushy-haired girl quickly scribbled in her notebook, frowning deeply.

The Defense professor then introduced the Potions professor as his assistant in the club, only to be blasted off his feet by Snape during the ensuing demonstration, to the many cheers of the Slytherins present.

From what Harry could tell from the presentation made by the two adults in the room, wizards seemed extremely unskilled in the ways of war; by even assuming a fighting stance, they were giving away their intent to engage in battle, something that would immediately put them at a distinct disadvantage in a real-life combat situation, particularly against somebody who needed no such stance to be effective.

With the demonstration over, the two professors moved through the gathered students, pairing them off with one another; Snape reached Harry and his clustered group first.

"Mister Malfoy, come over here. Let's see how you make of the famous Potter," said the Potions professor with a cold smile.

The platinum blonde Slytherin flinched. "I'd rather not, sir," he said weakly.

Snape froze for a moment, not prepared for the usually confident Slytherin boy to be afraid.

Quickly, the professor recovered his wits. "Very well, then. Malfoy, you can partner with Miss Baldursdottir; Potter, you will partner with Bletchley."

The Hermetic mage considered the girl with slicked-back black hair, dressed in Slytherin green, for a long moment; she was only a little taller than he was despite certainly being in a higher form, and her being in a higher form made him think there was no reason to go easy on her, particularly because it was unlikely she would go easy on him, not with the reputation of beating the Boy-Who-Lived in a duel on the line.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart, and the girl raised her wand to mimic the stance Snape had adopted in his mock duel with the Defense professor, while Harry shifted his weight onto his cane, leaning on it heavily while his wand remained at his side.

"When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents — only to disarm them — we don't want any accidents — one… two… three —"

The moment the countdown reached its end, the Hermetic mage flung his wand at the girl in a quick sidearm motion, disrupting her concentration and forcing her to break off her wand movement and bat the thrown wand to the side with her own, lest she be struck in the face with it. Breaking into a dead sprint, he closed the gap between them in an instant, using the crook of his immovable rod to hook the wrist of her wand hand and drag it across her body, forcing her wand off line as he ducked into her personal space, her wand arm going over his shoulder as he wrapped both arms around her body just below the swell of her breasts, pushing forward with his hips as he lifted her off her feet, forcefully driving her to the ground, face down.

Before the Slytherin could react and organize an intelligent defense, Harry spun from where he was atop her, isolating her wand arm and seizing it by the wrist, twisting until she yelped in pain and was forced to drop her wand.

Looking up momentarily, Harry noticed the variety of spells flying around that were decidedly intended _not_ to disarm, along with the Defense professor screaming in alarm; nearby, Malfoy was slinging spell after spell at Liv, who was twirling her truncheon of a wand around her fingers like a pencil, but they all seemed to fizzle into nothing before they reached the Norwegian Ridgeback, likely courtesy of the dragon dispelling the peroxide blonde's spells in midair, a task Harry would find extremely difficult even in the best of circumstances.

"_Finite Incantatem_!" bellowed the Potions professor, waving his wand.

Suddenly, the magical pandemonium ceased, leaving behind a scene of students in various states of exhaustion and injury. Bouncing around the crowd with a cheer inappropriate to the circumstances he had inadvertently caused, the Defense professor volunteered advice to the fallen and the injured with oblivious exuberance.

Carefully, Harry dismounted the Slytherin he had disarmed, offering her a hand and helping her back to her feet.

"That was pretty amazing," the girl said, brushing off her robes. "How'd you do that?"

"Lots of practice fighting people bigger than me," Harry said, meaning the program.

"Right, your cousin and his gang," said the girl, thinking the Hermetic mage meant what was written in the articles about him. "I'm Myla Bletchley; my friends call me 'Miles', not that I have any here at Hogwarts."

"I can't imagine why," said the Boy-Who-Lived conversationally, not really caring.

"I'm a half-blood. In Slytherin," the girl said. "Slytherin, the house whose founder said he'd only teach those with the purest ancestry and only took the pure-blood wizards who were cunning like he was."

"So, what you're saying is your house is racist?" Harry asked.

"Oh, _so_ very much," the girl said. "If I weren't the Keeper, I don't think they'd ever talk to me. I mean, they barely do now."

"I don't know what that is, but, sounds unpleasant," the Hermetic mage said, paying attention now his interest was suddenly piqued. "I'm Harry Potter, but I think you already knew that."

"Of course," Myla said and was about to continue when the Defense professor interrupted.

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," Lockhart announced, surveying the mayhem spread throughout the hall and nodding sagely to himself. "Let's have a volunteer — Potter and Bletchley, how about you —"

"Professor Lockhart," Myla said loudly, taking on a scornful tone. "Everybody knows Potter can't use magic; you should pick somebody else."

"Excellent idea," said the Defense professor brightly. "Malfoy, Baldursdottir," he added, gesturing towards the center of the hall.

"Sorry," whispered the Slytherin girl. "I figured you wouldn't want to have to try to defend against a spell in front of everybody."

"I mean, I could just dislocate your elbow," Harry said casually, watching as the Defense professor whispered something into the dragon's ear; even from where he stood, he could see Liv roll her eyes dismissively, though Lockhart seemed oblivious.

"I'd really rather you didn't," Myla said.

"Me too," said Harry, before calling out to Liv as the Defense professor started to count down. "Remember your cover!"

"Go!" Lockhart shouted.

Malfoy chanted something, and a long black snake shot out of his wand; it was too late, though, as Liv simply hopped over the reptile en route to the Slytherin boy, quickly rising up as she planted one foot on his hip and jumped off the floor, her other leg swinging over his head as she flipped in midair, using her weight and momentum to torque him to the floor even as she seized control of the arm with the wand in it, wrenching sharply as they hit the ground.

The sickening crunch of bone snapping could be heard just under the sound of the children screaming and backing away from the snake.

"You're _way_ squishier than Bear," said the dragon, standing over the prone Malfoy clutching his broken arm and whimpering.

"Don't worry, Draco," declared the Defense professor, rushing over to the Slytherin boy. "I'm about to fix your arm."

Turning, the dragon hissed sharply at the snake. Without _tongues_ on, Harry figured she was talking to it, though what she said was anyone's guess.

"No, don't," Draco said weakly, but Lockhart was already doing something appropriately stupid.

In an instant, the boy's arm went from broken to boneless.

"Cool," said the Norwegian Ridgeback.

Meanwhile, the hall was filled with ominous whispers.

"What's the big deal?" the dragon asked, as the students backed away from her.

"You're a Parselmouth!" declared one student.

"Uh, actually, she speaks _everything_," Harry said, loudly enough for the entire hall to hear. "Listen, if you don't believe me, any of you have a pet on you?"

A boy in Ravenclaw blue and bronze produced a toad from his pocket.

"What do you want it to do?" Liv asked, catching onto what Harry was trying to turn the situation into.

"Can you make it lick my face?" asked the boy.

The dragon croaked at the toad, who turned around in the boy's hands, hopped onto his shoulder by way of his arm, then shot its tongue out, tapping the boy on the cheek.

"How about Scabbers?" asked a ginger in the crowd. "Can you make it run in a circle?"

Liv chittered at the rat, lips curling back in a wicked smile. The rat looked terrified, then ran around in a circle in the boy's hands.

"I'm going to get my cat!" declared an older student.

"I've got a dog," said another. "Will you wait while I go get her?"

Dueling club quickly devolved into Olivia-Talks-To-Animals club as would-be duelists rained questions and requests on the dragon, who seemed happy to oblige. It was only an hour later that the commotion died down, as the club session ended and the students went back to their room, but by then, the ominous idea Liv was a Parselmouth had been defanged, replaced by the more curious notion she could speak with any animal.

"That rat the ginger asked me to make run in a circle?" asked Liv rhetorically, as soon as she, Luna and Harry were back in their dormitory room, "That rat is a person. It looked like McGonagall did when she was a cat, except a rat."

"Of course it is," Luna said distractedly, a handful of cards in her hands. "Got any twos?"

"Maybe it's a paedophile," Harry suggested, shrugging. "Or, a guardian of some sort."

"Go fish," the dragon said to the girl, before speaking to the Hermetic mage. "Either way, it's not our problem; just thought you should know."

"Duly noted," said the Hermetic mage.

It wasn't his problem now, but he had the feeling it might soon be.

**~ooOoo~**

*_beep_*

"Harry, where are you?"

It was rare for Colin to contact him outside of arranging the daily meeting to review the results of the surveillance the first-year boy had performed in the past twenty-four hours, so when the two-way radio on channel two squelched in the evening, during his normal research and development time, the Hermetic mage was immediately on alert.

"I'm in four seventy-five," Harry said, bringing the radio to his lips. "What's going on?"

"We'll tell you when we get there," Colin answered.

Hurriedly, the Hermetic mage gathered the materials he had out and shoved them into his haversack, then placed several open textbooks around him for cover; he had no desire to reveal his magic to Colin just yet, and from the sounds of it, he was likely bringing somebody along, so Harry needed to give off the appearance of doing something reasonable in an abandoned room.

The door to the classroom opened a few minutes later, and Colin entered, accompanied by a second Hufflepuff boy Harry had seen around but did not know by name.

"All right, what is it?" asked the Hermetic mage.

"I saw the giant snake," said the boy whose name Harry did not care to remember. "It petrified Nearly Headless Nick, and I barely got away in time."

"Guess the Ribbon's doing its job, then," Harry said.

"Here's the thing, though," the boy continued. "When I tried to report it to Dumbledore, he called me a liar and insisted that I didn't know what I saw, even though I know what it was!"

"You familiar with James Bond?" Harry asked Colin.

"I love the movies," said the third boy. "I'm not sure how that relates though?"

"You know that line in _Goldfinger_?" asked the Hermetic mage. "'Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.'?"

"This is the second time," Colin said. "If it happens again…"

"We should consider Dumbledore our enemy?" concluded the last boy.

"Something like that, yeah."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** There's always more than one way to skin a cat. I thought it was about time Hermione started using more than just books in her research, and start using the human element as well. There's a lot of ways to attack a problem, and, as expected, Hermione Granger's paradigm is "research the hell out of it".

Malfoy might still be smart-mouthed with Harry, but he's not going to risk getting smoked by him again.

Why is Bletchley female? In the film adaptation of _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_, the Slytherin keeper was played by an actress, Amy Puglia, despite there being no females on the Slytherin Quidditch team in the books. That—the only girl on a team of all boys—was a more interesting character to me than the stereotypical Slytherin, and it kind of just snowballed from there, with me asking myself, "What could make a character's life in Slytherin harder?", until this version of Miles Bletchley, half-blood Myla who loves both her parents and is shunned by her peers, was born. And yes, I do take cues from both the books and the films, which is why Creevey is a blonde (as he was in the films, whereas he's got brown hair in the books), but there's also the potions trial in _Hermetic Arts_ (taken from the book but was omitted in the films), and I also take cues from ancillary media like the trading card game (where I got the Manegro potion produced in _Hermetic Arts_).

Harry kicking the shit out of wizards with his physical skills is pretty much one of the recurring elements of the story; while his methods might be considered uncivilized by magicals, if it works, it works. And, seeing that it worked for her father, Liv does the same thing when she's called upon.

As a way to start demonstrating some of the philosophical and stylistic differences between Harry and Liv, I purposefully chose to have Harry use a bodylock takedown to get Bletchley to the ground, because it was a simple and effective technique that isn't flashy but gets the job done; Liv, meanwhile, uses a flying armbar on Malfoy specifically _because_ it's flashy and she likes to show off, even if the only person there who could truly appreciate it was Harry.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	17. Snake in the Grass

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 17: Snake in the Grass**

* * *

"We should talk."

Myla Bletchley nearly jumped out of her shoes at the silky growl behind her; turning, she recognized the Boy-Who-Lived lurking in the shadows just outside the entrance leading out of the dungeons where the Slytherins laid their heads at night, barely visible in the gloom with his black hair and dark clothes.

It was the Saturday morning after the first meeting of the dueling club, and though she had exchange words with the Boy-Who-Lived after their practice duel, she had not expected to hear from him again, especially not so soon.

"Hungry?" asked the Hufflepuff, and Myla nodded. "Come with me; we can eat and talk."

Following the Boy-Who-Lived, the Slytherin girl found herself being led to an abandoned seventh floor classroom and braced herself as the door swung opened, not sure what to expect; behind the door, a spread of food had been laid out on one of the long, tiered tables, some of which she recognized from the takeaway her mother sometimes ordered when she was too busy to cook dinner.

She also saw the lower-form students in the room, recognizing the girl who had broken the Malfoy heir's arm and the Ravenclaw rumored to be the smartest student in the school; the other three present were people she did not recognize.

"What's she doing here?" demanded brunette with her hair in pigtails. "She's a Slytherin!"

"I invited her, Wildfire," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "This is Myla Bletchley, of Slytherin."

"Not by choice," Myla added. "I'd have much rather have been sorted into Gryffindor, or even Hufflepuff."

"Then why are you a Slytherin?" the girl the Boy-Who-Lived had called 'Wildfire' challenged.

"My mother, before she married my father, took his name and got disowned, was a Crouch," Myla said hotly, defending herself. "I love my father, who's a muggle, and I grew up with my feet in both the magical and muggle worlds, but the Sorting Hat barely touched my head before it declared me a Slytherin."

"I'm Hermione Granger, and we don't use 'muggle' here," said the Ravenclaw. "It's demeaning."

"Then what do you call people without magic?" Myla asked.

"Normal," said the boy behind her.

"Normal?" asked the Slytherin, confused.

"Considering the population of magicals compared to people without magic, having magic is the exception and not the norm," explained the girl named Hermione.

Myla nodded, understanding exactly what the Ravenclaw meant. She had visited High Streets numerous times, and the bustling always made her think of Diagon Alley as small.

"Sit, eat," said the girl who had broken Draco Malfoy's arm, nodding to the seat beside her. "If Bear thinks you're okay, you're fine by me."

Hesitantly, Myla sat down, wary of the pigtailed girl still shooting her dirty looks and piling food from the communal plate the one placed in front of where she sat. She was hungry, but she had never seen food like this at Hogwarts.

"Who made this?" she asked. "I didn't think house elves knew how to make Chinese food."

"Bear and I cooked," said the olive-skinned girl beside her between mouthfuls of rice.

"I helped," chimed in the blonde besides the girl who had invited her to sit down.

"And you are?" Myla inquired.

"Luna Lovegood," she said, extending a hand towards the Slytherin, who shook it.

"Lovegood, like Xenophilius?" Myla asked. "Of _The Quibbler_?"

"That's my daddy," said the blonde distantly, distracted.

"Huh," said the Slytherin, before taking a bite from the food. "This is good."

"I know," said the Boy-Who-Lived, who had taken a seat and was helping himself to a spring roll.

"So, what do you want to talk to me about?" Myla asked.

"You're thinking of recruiting her, aren't you?" asked the girl with the bushy brown hair beside her.

"Recruiting me?" the Slytherin asked.

"What's your thoughts on blood purity?" asked the Boy-Who-Lived, ignoring her question.

"It's pure bunk," Myla answered. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"What about You-Know-Who?" the Ravenclaw asked.

"Mother always called him a terrorist, for attacking innocent people who couldn't defend themselves," Myla said, "and I agree. There's nothing more cowardly than that."

"And if I told you he wasn't dead?" asked the boy who had invited her to breakfast.

"Then I hope he dies in a bloody ditch," spat the Slytherin.

"I think her feelings are pretty clear," said the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Agreed," said the girl who had broken Draco Malfoy's arm. "All in favor?"

Myla looked around confusion as four hands were quickly raised; the blonde's, the bushy-haired Ravenclaw's, the arm-breaker's and the Boy-Who-Lived's hands all went up immediately, and only afterwards did the remaining two reluctantly join in.

"Once in, never out," intoned the Boy-Who-Lived ominously.

"I don't understand," Myla said.

"You don't have any friends in Slytherin, and hell, you don't even share the views of most of the house, so what do you have to lose?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked. "All it'll cost you to join this group of friends is a blood oath."

"What's a 'blood oath'?" asked the Slytherin suspiciously.

"It's just an old traditional normal people have," said blonde blithely.

"We've all done one," the Ravenclaw added.

"And what do I have to swear?" Myla asked.

"Just that you'll never betray the secrets of this circle," said the olive-skinned girl besides her.

"What secrets?" she asked.

"You'll find out after you take the oath."

Myla considered the proposition; she did not like getting into a situation she did not understand, but at the same time, she was tired of being an afterthought in her own house, never spoken to outside of Quidditch, and only scornfully even then.

"I'll take it," she said, determined to change the course of her school life.

"Swear you'll keep the secrets of the circle," prompted the Boy-Who-Lived, extending a hand.

"I, Myla Bletchley, swear I'll keep the secrets the circle," Myla said wholeheartedly, taking the boy's extended hand in her own.

Suddenly, pain shot through her hand, and Myla stared in shock at the knife stabbed through the back of her hand and out the Boy-Who-Lived's.

"What, what are you doing?" asked the Slytherin.

"Don't be a baby," said the pigtailed girl, visibly relaxing. "We've done various versions of this."

"You have?" Myla asked, feeling faint as the olive-skinned girl pulled the knife roughly out the back of her hand.

"Yep," agreed the other boy.

Myla's surprise grew as the olive-skinned girl waved her hand over her bleed one, and in a matter of moments, the wound knitted closed, leaving not even a scar. "How'd you do that?"

"She's a prodigy," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "She only has to see something once before she can replicate it herself."

"But she didn't use a wand, or an incantation," Myla protested.

"I can see magic when it's being used," said the girl who had healed her hand. "I just control it directly and copy what I see."

"You do what now?" asked Wildfire. "That's just absurd, Liv."

"Any magic?" the Ravenclaw asked.

To answer the question, the girl called 'Liv' picked up a piece of spare rib from a plate of sauce, then snapped her fingers, and the bone vanished from it, leaving behind only meat and gristle.

"You are ridiculous," Hermione said, shaking her head ruefully. "None of the rules of magic apply to you, do they?"

"I wouldn't know," Liv said, before turning to Myla. "Oh, I'm Liv, and I'm a dragon."

"A what?" Myla asked, flustered.

"A Norwegian Ridgeback."

"I must be dreaming, because I swear just heard her say she's a dragon," said the Slytherin Keeper, turning to Luna Lovegood.

"No, she's a dragon," said the blonde. "I've never seen her as one, but I believe her."

"And we know You-Know-Who isn't dead," Hermione said.

"I beg your pardon?" asked the Slytherin, even more bewildered.

"He was possessing Quirrell last year when we stole the Philosopher's Stone," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "When Quirrell died, he might have floated away in a puff of black smoke."

"Wait, you stole the Philosopher's Stone?" Myla asked.

At this point, she didn't know what to believe.

"Yes," said Wildfire, as she produced a glowing chunk of red stone. "This is a piece of it."

"Who are you?" the Slytherin asked.

"I'm Fay Dunbar from Gryffindor, and this good-looking fellow is Neville Longbottom."

"Wait, you said Quirrell died," said Myla, turning back towards the Boy-Who-Lived. "How?"

"I put a knife into him," said the Boy-Who-Lived.

"You killed him, Harry?" Fay gasped.

"He was going to kill me, so I just did him first," Harry said, shrugging.

"But, killing him?" the Gryffindor girl protested. "He was a professor!"

"I did what I had to to come home alive," Harry said. "Push come to shove, you would have done the same, or we wouldn't be talking right now because you'd be dead."

"And that's why I don't trust the headmaster," the Hufflepuff continued. "He let who some call the 'most powerful dark wizard in modern history' into Hogwarts, to teach _Defense_! Can you imagine how much damage that might have done to an entire generation of students, to have the enemy they might have to one day face in battle also be the one teaching them how to defend themselves?"

Myla conceded to herself that the Boy-Who-Lived made fair points.

"And all these are secrets of the circle?" Myla asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "Now, next time you see me in the halls, you need to call me a 'blood traitor' and kick me in the bollocks."

"What? Why?"

"It'll establish your cover in Slytherin and give you credibility," Liv said. "There's no better way to earn the trust of those who believe in blood purity than to assault the one who killed their leader."

"Is that what I am, your in with Slytherin?" Myla asked the Boy-Who-Lived, horrified at the prospect of being used as a tool.

"Yes and no," Harry said. "Yes, you are an in to Slytherin, and I do need to know what's going on in that house, but I also genuinely like you as a person and agree with almost everything you've said about blood purity and You-Know-Who, so I think we could work together to make the world a better place _and_ also be friends who secretly spend time together when there aren't any other Slytherins or blood purists watching."

Myla considered the proposition for a long moment; even if it involved sneaking around, it was still better than having no friends at all, and besides that, she really did not agree with a lot of what was expressed by her housemates, particularly when it came to those without magic, like her father, who she truly loved for his warmth and kindness, and she was enjoying the warmth and banter that was accompanying the meal.

"I'll do it," she finally said.

"Good," Harry said, before placing a piece of raw fish on top of a lump of rice on her plate. "Have some _nigirizushi_; Liv made it, and it's delicious."

Myla took a bite from the thing the Boy-Who-Lived had placed on her plate with trepidation and was pleasantly surprised by its rich, mellow flavor. "It's good…"

She felt Harry slap her on the shoulder, piling more food onto her plate as he described it to her.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked between mouthfuls of food.

"This is how it's like with us cooks," Harry explained. "We don't have much money, but we have our skills, so the least we can do is feed our friends great food."

"It's really delicious," Myla said, as she bit into a crescent-shaped fried dumpling and was pleasantly surprised to find its crispy shell was filled with ground meat, cabbage, garlic and ginger; it was like one of her favorites, as good as the dim sum she had eaten with her family when they went out to dine at a Chinese restaurant, except the filling was different and she had never had it with the tangy, dark brown sauce before. "That's not what I meant, though; why are you going out of your way to be friends with me?"

"There's something about you that just feels... _right_," Harry said. "Besides, nobody should ever be friendless."

"Thank you," Myla said gratefully.

"If you give me your phone number, I'll give you a ring and we can meet during the Christmas break," Harry said, handing her a pen and a small notepad, and the Slytherin happily wrote down her information.

**~ooOoo~**

"You filthy blood traitor!" Myla shouted, punting the Boy-Who-Lived between his legs.

It was Sunday afternoon, the day before the Hogwarts Express was due to take students home for the Christmas holiday, when she had met Harry in the halls, and she had immediately remembered what he had told her to do.

Harry Potter's eyes bulged and went wide for a moment. Then, he crumpled to the floor, clutching at his groin as he twitched and spasmed.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, rushing over to Harry.

"Shut up, you mudblood whore!" Myla shouted back, then immediately regretted her words as the Ravenclaw gasped, looking genuinely hurt at the insult.

There was a momentary hush in the halls as students passing by in the hall froze and stared at what had transpired. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Marcus Flint grinning and guiding her towards the Slytherins' quarters in dungeons.

"Bletchley here just kicked Potter in the bollocks, called him a blood traitor and called that mudblood who's always with him a whore," announced the captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team.

To Myla's disgust, the Slytherins in the common room cheered and gathered around her, clapping her on the shoulders and telling her how she was one of them now.

It was in that moment that she realized she truly despised her housemates; up until now, they had treated her like she was beneath them simply for having one parent who couldn't use magic, even though that parent loved her as much as a parent could love a child, and, if she hadn't been twice as good as the previous Keeper and made half as many mistakes as he did, she probably wouldn't have been even allowed on the Slytherin Quidditch team, not just because she was a half-blood, but also because she was a girl.

Yet now, for no reason other than her attack on the Boy-Who-Lived, they were congratulating her and treating her like she was one of them all along, even though who she was hadn't changed in the least.

She felt anger welling up inside, tying her stomach into knots, and she decided joining the Boy-Who-Lived had been the right decision. She couldn't change where she was, but she could certainly do something with it that could make the world better.

**~ooOoo~**

"Hermione, dear, you've a call!"

"Coming, mum!" Hermione called back, hurrying down the stairs.

It was the night of the twenty-first, and she had only been home a few hours, so she wasn't expecting a call from Harry, Fay or Su-Jin, but Hermione couldn't think of who else would telephone her since she no longer attended a school with normal children her own age.

"This is Hermione speaking," said the Ravenclaw, after she brought the phone to her ears.

"I'm so sorry for calling you a 'mudblood'," said the voice on the line, and it took Hermione a moment to realize the caller was Myla Bletchley, the Slytherin girl she had eaten breakfast with two days earlier.

"I forgive you," Hermione said without pausing. "Harry told me it might happen, that you might insult me and told me to react like it was real."

"Harry thought I might call you a 'mudblood'?" the Slytherin asked, shock clear in her voice.

"He thought it might happen in the moment," the Ravenclaw explained. "He told me, when you're undercover and the situation is fluid, sometimes the words that come out of your mouth fit the situation even if they aren't what you believe, like that time he told Draco Malfoy he was You-Know-Who."

"He did?" Myla asked. "Is that why Malfoy didn't want to face him in dueling club?"

"I imagine it must be," Hermione answered.

"But everybody knows Harry can't use magic," said the Slytherin. "How did he convince Malfoy he was the Dark Lord?"

"I don't know, but if I were to guess, he lied," the Ravenclaw said. "He's really very good at that."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** And that is how recruiting and handling a covert asset should go. I have many criticisms of Snape as a spy (as I previously mentioned), and while original drafts had Harry using him as one as well, I realized that Snape has no real qualifications as one, and being an arrogant bastard, he was going to be unlikely to change his ways on the say so of a child, particularly one he didn't particularly care for, whereas somebody who was Harry's peer and considered him a friend _would_ take his advice into consideration. And yes, Harry is being manipulative again.

The Chinese have a phrase literally translating to "bitter meat scheme" which refers to a strategy where a friend falsely takes some physical pain in order to gain the trust of somebody they will later betray, and that's basically what Harry has set up here to get Myla in with the Slytherins.

I enjoyed writing most of this chapter from Myla's perspective; it was a nice change of pace from writing from Harry's. I know the chapter's a bit shorter than some, but it didn't really fit with the preceding and following chapters given the nature of who the primary subject was.

I have just finished writing the final chapter of _Physical Adept_ and it is now in editing with Romantically Distant; after a short turnaround, I plan on starting work on the next book. Thus, I am looking for people who lived in any of the following areas—New York City, Dallas/Fort Worth, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Tokyo, Hong Kong, Manila, Paris—during the summer of 1993 and can remember what it was like living there at the time; I'd like to interview them and pick their brain about those cities felt during that time, as well as maybe use some specific events, since primary sources are way better than secondary and tertiary ones. PM me if you're interested in being interviewed, and we can talk through Steam messenger, Trillian or Discord.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	18. Fresh Ink

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 18: Fresh Ink**

* * *

"Merry Christmas!"

The chorus of well-wishing reminded Harry once again of why he treasured his Irregulars, the regulars at Bourne's Comic and Games who knew his secrets; with Liv's help, he had prepared a large, buffet-style meal and served it on Christmas Eve, a small thank you to his friends for all they had done for him over the years during the traditional annual Christmas movie marathon that ran the entire day in the back room of the hobby shop, and now the cold leftovers was breakfast on Christmas proper.

With their own families to attend to, Ethan, Martin and Sarah only dropped by the shop long enough on the day before Christmas to wish the others well, but that was all the time Harry needed to give them their gifts. To the economics professor who enjoyed board games, he gave a copy of _Snitch Snatcher!_ he bought from Quality Quidditch Supplies the day after returning to London, figuring he would enjoy the novelty of a magical board game, while he gave research librarian a sizeable collection of reference books he had purchased from Flourish and Blotts, and the sociology professor received a collection of texts written by magical individuals who styled themselves anthropologists about the behavior of beings, including volumes about giants, goblins, vampires, hags, house elves, veela and werewolves, though he expected she would have the same objections to what the magicals wrote about them in the same way she had rejected what they had written about normal humans.

"You sound different," Harry observed as he handed Jack the package that was his present to her.

"Karen's been helping with me accent," the Scottish programmer explained, the Ayrshire lilt much softer in her speech. "I realized it was making it difficult to be hired for freelance work if employers couldn't understand me, so I've been working with Karen on making me speech easier to understand."

"Well, it's working," Harry said. "I'll miss your lilt, though; I always found it very soothing."

"Thank you," Jack said, before opening the box Harry had given her, revealing a porcelain mug with a hinged lid. Opening it, she peered inside, then looked back at the Hermetic mage. "Coffee?"

"A mug of coffee that never runs out," Harry said. "Two creams and four sugars, just like you like it."

"What's this?" asked the actress, as she opened the box inside the wrapped box that was Harry's present to her, carefully lifting the AMT Hardballer out of the box, making sure to keep the muzzle pointed away from people as her training from the program kicked in.

"You did say you had been cast as the lead in a prestige mini-series for the BBC, so I thought you should have something to protect yourself with," the Hermetic mage responded. "You are about to become even more famous than you already are, and I wouldn't be surprised if people started stalking you."

"But a gun? That's a little too far," Karen protested.

"It's not," Jason interjected, carefully closing the box with the present Harry had given him. "You need to be able to protect yourself, and Ryan already taught you the proper way to handle one, so I know you'll be safe with it."

"Besides, it's enchanted to be quiet, no matter what you do with it,"said the Hermetic mage. "You could empty the entire mag into a bloke and then beat him to death with it, and it wouldn't make a sound."

Shaun was busy pouring himself two fingers from the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky into the tumbler Harry had given him the previous year. Taking a sip, he exhaled sharply between gritted teeth. "Burns more than a good Scotch, but not nearly as strong."

"Sorry, if I had known, I'd have gotten you a bottle of a twenty-five-year-old _Suntory Yamazaki_," Harry said.

"Are you insane?" asked the construction foreman. "Why would you waste several thousand pounds on a bottle of whiskey I'm _just_ going to drink?"

"Chef said it was really good whiskey, goes down smooth as silk and all," Harry said. "Also, why do you know the price of a sixty-seven _Yamazaki_?"

Shaun coughed, clearly trying to change the subject, and Harry decided to let the it go, turning towards Romy, who was still trying to figure out what to do with the crate of potions and potion ingredients and the book of potion recipes before her.

"I think I'm going to be very busy after graduation," she said finally.

"Congratulations on that, by the way," Harry said. "So, you have a master's now?"

"Thank you," said the chemist, nodding. "With this, I bet I could synthesize all kinds of pharmaceuticals magicals have been keeping secret for years."

"I hear the Pepperup Potion instantly cures the common cold," Harry said. "I wouldn't know for sure, though, since I don't really need potions when I get sick; I just cure myself."

"I'll have to look into it," Romy said, distracted, as she flipped through the book of recipes.

Suddenly, Patience hugged him from behind, folding him in her arms. "Thank you for the gift," she said as she let go of the boy, turning her head from side to side to model the ankh earrings she now wore. "You remembered what I said the first time we met."

"Of course," said the Hermetic mage. "Who could forget something as important as feeling like you don't belong?"

"Well, I'm glad I met you," said the daywalker. "I've got you guys now, it's amazing to have a family like this."

**~ooOoo~**

The crown jewel amongst Christmas presents Harry received was the freshly-minted core rulebook for the new, revised second edition of _Shadowrun_.

Harry had never experienced an edition change before, so for him, it was an exciting time to be alive, a chance to explore the possibilities of what an updated system could do when he next played the game with the regulars at Bourne's Comics and Games.

Though many of the concepts within the system remained the same, one thing that caught Harry's eye was the section within the Magic chapter regarding adepts, more specifically, physical adepts.

Being able to improve his body and its abilities might finally give him a chance to match up better with Liv on a physical level so that he could finally defeat her in a training match and force her to practice her combat skills more seriously.

While _Shadowrun_ might only be a game, as Hermione was usually quick to remind him, Harry had drawn much of his understanding of the Hermetic Arts from what he had read from the core rulebook of the first edition of the game, so there was no reason why he could not find a way to adapt what was written about physical adepts to himself.

Unfortunately, for as much information as the book had on what physical adepts were capable of, there was next to nothing about how they achieved such superhuman feats, with only a vague line about "Powers attributed to legendary martial artists, warriors of shamanic peoples, berserkers, and the like" as a breadcrumb for where he could start his research.

It was not much to go on, but at least it was something.

**~ooOoo~**

Harry did not know much about traditional martial arts besides what he had seen in the _gongfu_ movies Shaun loved; it was one of the few instances the construction foreman was willing to watch films in a foreign language, and the fighting had always gotten the boy's blood pumping. Though he was certain those movies had very little basis in fact, he also knew myth was often based on truth, so he spent two days watching _gongfu_ movies with Liv and reading _wuxia_ novels with little to show for it besides way too many pages of notes about _qi_.

By the time Monday morning came around, Harry was bored of watching movies and reading novels without getting any real answers, so he caught the tube into London with Liv, intent on visiting martial arts studios and experiencing martial arts first-hand. Unfortunately, what he had learned in the program proved detrimental to the experience, as everywhere he went, he saw unnecessary mysticism and wasted motion.

It was at the fourth studio they visited, a _karate dojo_, that the two Hufflepuffs saw a familiar face.

"Miles?" Harry asked.

Hearing her name, the girl with the slicked-back hair turned, taking a moment to recognize the speaker.

"Harry?" asked the Slytherin. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing some research on martial arts," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I've been coming here after my first year at You-Know-Where," Myla answered. "Mother thought I should know how to defend myself, and father thought this would be the best place."

"Well, if you're here, then _karate_ must not be very good, since I took you down and nearly broke your arm before you could even put up a defense," the Hermetic mage said.

"I wasn't ready then!" the Keeper argued. "You won't beat me again!"

"Sure, I'll be happy to kick your ass again," Harry said, shucking off his coat and tossing it aside. "You shouldn't need to have to be ready to defend yourself."

"What's going on here?" demanded an older man in a _gi_ as he emerged from the back of the studio, tying on his belt.

"Smoke 'im."

In an instant, the Norwegian Ridgeback was across the room, rising off the floor as she flew knee-first into the _gi_-clad man's jaw, sending him to the floor in a limp heap.

"Anybody else?" asked the dragon to the stunned silence around the room.

"All right then, let's do this," Harry said, nodding to Myla, who nodded back and assumed a traditional _karate_ fighting stance, while the Hermetic mage shifted his body into a position where he presented the right side of his body forward, left hand up and open in front of his chin while his right hand swung freely near his waist.

The two circled in silence, watching each other intensely as the _karateka _cautiously closed the distance. As soon as they were close enough, she threw a low roundhouse kick, aimed at the boy's left side, and the Harry immediately stepped away from the attack, catching the leg by the ankle as it impacted weakly against his body and immediately twisted inward, forcing the knee to bend and throwing Myla off balance, sending her face-first towards the floor. As she caught herself with her hands, Harry pounced on her exposed back, immediately hooking both of his heels into where her legs met her pelvis and flipping her onto her back as he quickly wrapped the crook of one elbow around her neck and grabbed his other bicep with the hand, while his other hand pressed against the back of her head.

In a matter of seconds, Myla Bletchley was unconscious, and Harry quickly released her, pushing her body away from him as he stood, shooting a dangerous look towards the other gathered students.

"Get out!" snarled the Boy-Who-Lived, and the remaining pupils quickly fled the _dojo_.

A few short moments later, the Slytherin girls's eyes opened and she sat up. "What happened?" she asked.

"You gave me your leg, so I took it and used it to get you on the ground, then I took your back and sank a rear naked choke, which put you out in seconds," the Hermetic mage said calmly.

"Just like that?" Myla asked.

"Just like that," Harry agreed.

"What have I even been doing here for the past three years?" Myla asked in despair.

"I don't know, Miles," Harry said, shrugging. "What have you been doing here for the past three years?"

"I thought I was learning self-defense, but apparently, it wasn't worth the money father paid," the girl said gloomily.

"We can try to fix that," Harry said, and Liv nodded, kicking the unconscious man repeatedly in the stomach until he groaned and sat up, clutching his face.

"Who are you?" asked the man, looking up at the dragon-in-girl's-form standing over him.

"Who cares who I am," Liv said, smiling viciously as she reached into the back of her pants and pulled out her handgun, pressing it hard against the man's forehead. "We're here about a refund for our friend; it seems you've been teaching her a bunch of bullshido like the con artist that you are, and now she'd like her father's money back."

The man reached for the gun, and the dragon immediately pulled it back toward her chest, striking him across the face with a vicious forearm that snapped his head sideways before thrusting the muzzle of the gun under his jaw.

"Try that again and I'll blow your brains out the back of your skull," threatened the Norwegian Ridgeback, grabbing the man by the collar of his _gi_. "Understood?"

The man swallowed and nodded fearfully.

"Where's the feckin' money?" the dragon asked.

"It's in the back, in a safe," sputtered the _karate_ instructor.

"Show me," Liv growled, standing up with her gun still trained on the man, who slowly got up, his hands up.

The two disappeared into the back; not long after, there was the sound of a furniture breaking, before a wall was suddenly smashed apart by the man being sent through it.

An instant later, Liv emerged from the back of the _dojo_ and tossed Myla a thick stack of banknotes held together by a rubber band.

"I hate scam artists," the dragon declared, shouldering her satchel. "We should go."

**~ooOoo~**

"You've changed your look," Harry remarked the next morning as Liv came out of her room as naked as the first time she took human form.

"After yesterday, I thought I'd alter my appearance, make it harder for the authorities to identify me as the girl who beat up that scammer," the Norwegian Ridgeback explained. "How is it?"

"Not like the previous you," said the Boy-Who-Lived.

It was true; the dragon's human form no longer looked the same as it did the previous day. Instead, her previously caramel-colored skin had become the tone of lightly toasted cashews, and she had grown a few inches taller, with small curves forming at her bust and hips. However, the changes to her face were the most noticeable: gone was the oval-shaped face, with its narrow amber eyes, flat nose and small mouth, replaced by a heart-shaped one, complete with eyes the color of hazel and shaped like almonds, a straight-edged Duchess nose, thin eyebrows and a shapely mouth with full, pink lips. Even her hair had lightened from its original mud color to a walnut tone. Gone too was the finger-wide black strip of skin that had run down the length of her spine that had previously identified her as a Norwegian Ridgeback.

Harry felt something stir in his loins.

"Well, I'm going to shower, and then we can go meet everybody for that thing you've planned," Liv announced.

Harry could only nod.

**~ooOoo~**

The reactions from those Harry had gathered for the trip was mixed.

"Who is that?" Hermione asked as soon as she saw the dragon-in-a-different-girl's-form, and it took Harry a few minutes to explain to her what had transpired, leaving out the more violent details of the previous day's events.

"Liv!" squealed Luna as soon as she saw her, rushing over to give her a great, big hug. "You look amazing!"

"You recognize me?" asked the dragon.

"I'd recognize you no matter how you look," answered the blonde brightly, kissing the dragon on the cheek.

"Aww, that's sweet," Liv said, leaning over and returning the kiss with one on Luna's forehead.

"Hey Liv," Fay said, completely ignoring Liv's change in appearance, as she had recognized the dragon by the closeness she shared with Luna. "I couldn't get Neville to come," she added. "He wanted to spend time with his grandmother."

"That's a shame," Harry remarked. "This was supposed to be a late Christmas gift."

Myla was the last of the invited to arrive and she went straight to the Boy-Who-Lived.

"How long have you been studying martial arts?" asked the Slytherin Keeper.

"I haven't," answered the Hufflepuff. "I started hand-to-hand combat training back in July."

"But that's less than six months!" Myla protested. "How did you get so good, so fast?"

"We practice everyday," Luna chimed in from next to Liv.

"We?" asked the Keeper.

"Bear, Dia and me," Liv said.

"Who are you?" asked the Slytherin finally. "And who's 'Dia'?

"I got you your money back, and you don't even recognize me?" asked the dragon in mock anguish, bringing a hand to her forehead dramatically and sinking to the floor in a feigned swoon. "Oh, the huge manatee."

"No, I believe that's Myla Bletchley," the blonde Hufflepuff said brightly, tugging on the dragon's arm and bringing her back to her feet. "And I'm 'Dia'."

"Is this everybody?" asked Patience, who had volunteered to chaperone the trip.

"It's close enough," Harry said, before turning to the woman accompanying the Slytherin. "I'm sorry, Miss Bletchley, but there's no parents allowed on this trip."

"How can I trust you to take care of Myla?" asked the only mother present. "She's only just met you this term, and I don't know you from Merlin."

"Mother, I trust Harry," the Keeper told her present parent. "He and Oliva took great pains to get our money back from the dojo after it was clear what they were teaching was useless."

The woman looked pained. "If you harm even one hair on my Myla's…"

"I'll return her to you no worse for wear than when we met today," Harry interrupted. "But we really need to go now, or we're going to miss the appointment."

It was a short walk from where the Hogwarts students and their daywalker chaperone had met to their destination, a familiar shop with a heavy wooden door Harry had visited just once before, but had once again made an appointment at.

Rapping on the door with his knuckles, the Hermetic mage smiled slightly as the lock clicked and it swung open, revealing the unchanged interior behind it with its sparse white walls and numerous framed designed hanging from them, now even more than he recalled there being before, a single leather salon chair in the back of the room next to a desk and several more file cabinets than he remembered.

"It's been more than a year, Harry," said the warm, silky voice of the beautifully pale noirette low and husky as she wrapped her tattooed arms around him in an embrace he received awkwardly. "I thought you might have forgotten about me."

"Never, Grace," said the boy, as she finally let go of him, looking her up and down as she did so. "You're my favorite tattoo artist."

Since their previous meeting, Grace had changed her hair, having shaved the side of her head, and the rest of her hair was swept the other way, hiding part of her face behind a curtain of cheek-length black locks. Gone too was the white tank top, replaced by a long, sleeveless black T-shirt with the AC/DC logo that went just past her derriere, secured in place by a wide leather belt with a large ring in the middle. The skintight jeans and ankle-length footwear also were absent, and in their place was a pair of strappy, knee-high black leather boots and nothing else, highlighting the sleek lines of the tattoo artist's lithe legs.

Harry felt his pants grow tight in the groin and shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

"I'm sorry, can you turn off the radio?" asked the Hermetic mage, as Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" began to play yet again. "I'm sick of hearing it already, and I've only been back less than a week."

"How has boarding school been?" Grace asked, as she did as the boy asked.

"Dangerous, as always," answered the Hermetic mage. "That's why I'm here."

"Another tattoo, huh?" said the pale noirette, and the boy nodded. "May I see the design?"

"This one is for me," Harry said, as he handed a sheaf of papers to the tattoo artist, before handing her an additional page. "And this one is for my friends. Including you, if you can tattoo yourself and you'd want it."

"For me? Really? What does it do?"

"It's a Ribbon," explained the Hermetic mage. "Once enchanted, it'll protect its bearer from any abnormal status ailments, like poison, curses, blindness, petrification and instant death."

"Wait, just how many normal people have you told about magic?" Myla interrupted.

"As many as I've had to," the Boy-Who-Lived said opaquely.

"What about the Statute of Secrecy?"

"You're not breaking the law if you don't get caught," Harry said with a shrug.

The Slytherin looked to those around her for help.

"Don't look at me, I sell drugs at Hogwarts," Fay said.

"I helped him steal the Philosopher's Stone," Hermione added.

"I'm a dragon, so it's not like I'm exactly legal either."

This left only Luna without an admission of guilt.

"What?" she asked brightly. "I haven't done anything."

"You're an accomplice after the fact," Harry said. "And you're harboring at least one fugitive."

"Cool," said the blonde lightly. "Now we're all co-conspirators."

"That's some heavy stuff," Grace said. "All right, which one of you is first?"

"Will it hurt? And how long will it take?" Hermione asked.

"It'll definitely hurt," Harry said, remembering having his brain rattled around his skull for his head tattoo.

"Depends on where I put the tattoo," Grace said. "Around the bicep or thigh, maybe two to four hours. Ankle, around one to three."

"There's seven of us; that could take more than a day," the Ravenclaw.

"I'll pass," Patience said. "Any change to my body just reverts back in the moonrise."

"And I don't need one," the dragon added. "I can just replicate the effect."

"Besides, I'm getting a full sleeve, so that'll take a lot longer," the Hermetic mage said.

"That's ten to fifteen hours," said the tattoo artist, and the boy nodded. "I'll do Harry's last."

"I've got the ink here," said the Boy-Who-Lived, taking out a fairly large bottle for shimmering pigment out of his haversack. "This drek is pretty bad to breathe in, but it's safe for injection, according to my research."

"I'll go first," Fay volunteered bravely.

"We can play games while we wait," Luna said cheerfully.

"I'll need to infuse Astral power to the tattoo as it's being inked, so I'll be busy," said the Hermetic mage.

"Astral power?" asked Fay and Myla at the same time.

"Harry can make magic items, but he can't cast spells," Hermione lied. "It's complicated."

Grace started to speak but stopped when Harry surreptitiously raised a finger to his lips, giving her a knowing look and a wink.

"Take a seat over here, and I'll get started," said the tattoo artist, and the Gryffindor took a seat, rolling up her left sleeve to her armpit.

**~ooOoo~**

It was late in the afternoon by the time Grace finished tattooing Fay, Luna, Myla and Hermione. The Ravenclaw had been the most apprehensive of the four, nearly backing out several times for fear of how her parents would react to her getting inked, but was ultimately convinced of the necessity of having the Ribbon permanently on her body by the Hermetic mage, though it was Myla who suggested she get the tattoo around her ankle where it'd be more difficult to see, which is where she had it inked as an anklet, the same as Miles and Luna had. Once each of them had gotten their tattoos, Liv had used _heal wounds_ to accelerate the recovery process, reducing the recuperation process to just a few short seconds.

Harry was just settling into the salon seat, his shirt off, when he spotted the Gryffindor and Slytherin talking to the daywalker. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm going to take them across the street to get something," Patience answered.

"I'll be seeing you, then, chummers," said the boy, watching the trio depart before taking another bottle of pigments out of his haversack and handing it to Grace. "This is for the rest of the sleeve around the Ribbon band."

The tattoo artist looked from the ink to the design on the pages to the ink again. "This is really intricate, even more so than your scalp tattoo," she said. "I'm impressed with your work."

"Thank you," said the boy. "Dia helped with the final drawing; I'm actually not that good at it."

"Well, aren't you a little ladykiller," Grace said conversationally.

"Actually, I try not to kill women," Harry cracked wise. "But, on the real, I invited Pilgrim, a friend of mine, but he decided to spend time with his grandmother instead. Besides, legally speaking, Liv is my daughter, Dia is her best friend, and Wildfire and Pilgrim are pretty much inseparable."

"That still leaves three," said the pale noirette as she filled a small bottle with the shimmering ink and attached it to her tattoo gun.

"I only just met Miles a couple weeks ago, and Danger and I are just friends," said the Hermetic mage.

"What about Patience? She seems nice," Grace said, as she started to ink the boy's left shoulder.

"She legitimately scares me," the boy said. "I'm in pretty good shape, but she could snap me in half like a skinny twig if she wanted to."

"So, what's her story?"

"You really don't want to know."

"No, I'm curious."

"She's a friend of Vlad the Impaler."

"Come again?"

"She's related to Count Dracula."

"I don't get it."

"She's a fucking vampire."

"This is something else I'm going to have to take to my grave, isn't it?"

"You're the one who wanted to know; I tried to warn you off."

"You could have been more clear."

"I don't know how I could have been."

**~ooOoo~**

The Hermetic Mage flexed his left arm, looking over the full length tattoo that now went from his shoulder to his wrist with the exception of a small, stylized _sæwelō_, ᛋ, rune placed at the heel of his palm that he could easily conceal with long sleeves. It was well past midnight, and he had just finished infusing the Ribbon now inked around Grace's left thigh like a garter with Astral power, even going so far as to inject the ink into her skin in the very few places where the tattoo artist couldn't reach herself, though that had been a rather arousing experience. Now, she was asleep in the salon chair, exhausted from a hard day's work.

He could feel the Astral energy running through the design that went from his shoulder to elbow, a complicated and layered version of the original Ribbon design he had further reinforced with runes like ᚦ, _thurisaz_, the ancient Norse rune for the directed force of destruction and defense, and ᚢ, _uruz_, the rune of physical strength and speed, untamed potential, health and freedom.

The _pièce de résistance_, though, was the portion of the sleeve running from his elbow to wrist; passing Astral power through the trio of Celtic shield knots inked around his forearm and interspersed with _algiz_, ᛉ, the rune of protection, the Hermetic mage smiled as a trio transparent black discs large enough to cover his entire head and torso projected out of the back of his arm like a round shield, floating about an inch away from his skin in three separate layers.

Wordlessly, Liv pulled her pistol from her rucksack and pointed it at the boy, who nodded solemnly. Carefully, she aimed to not hit anything vital, then fired the weapon twice, and the handgun remained silent except for the sound of its action cycling.

The bullets struck the outermost disc, flattening on impact, and stopped short, clanging off and dropping straight to the floor; the impact did not even reach the boy, who watched in amazement as the dragon then emptied the entire magazine into the shield of pure magical force without so much as damaging it.

In the leather chair, Grace tossed fitfully but otherwise remained asleep.

Flushing the Astral power from the shield knots tattooed on the back of his arm, Harry nodded the ever-wakeful Patience, who had already taken his friends home to their families. Leaving a heap of gold coins, a thick stack of cash and a note, the dragon, the Hermetic mage and the vampire carefully collected the expelled shell casings and spent slugs, then departed the tattoo parlor, the door locking behind them.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Jack's accent was always meant to lighten; regional accents were far less accepted during the 90s, and it was another small detail meant to show the Irregulars interact and help each other even when Harry's not around.

Edition changes are fun. Adepts were introduced in _Shadowrun_'s second edition, so there was no way Harry could have been one before that, but now, he's got something to aspire to.

_Gongfu_ literally translates to "skill", usually referring to one gained through long periods of diligent practice; you can have _gongfu_ for cooking, folding clothes, mopping floors, etc. I've never been a fan of the Western spelling of "kung fu", and since Harry has access to every language through _tongues_, it would only make sense he'd use the Cantonese pronunciation, since most 80s and 90s _gongfu_ movies originated from Hong Kong, and thus were originally filmed in Cantonese. Because Harry doesn't do dubs.

The _karate_ section isn't me taking a shot at traditional martial arts; I don't actually know that much about it in its purest forms, since most school don't teach that, and I'm fairly certain that, in their purest forms, traditional martial arts are combat arts meant to hurt and kill. What I _am_ doing, however, is taking a shot at the McDojos that sprang up in the 90s that focused more on belts, exams and grades than on actual technical skills and their practical applications. Contrast this with what Harry and Liv have learned in the program, which is pure technical skill and their applications without superfluous grading and examinations, and you get set up with situations like this, where somebody who was trained to kill, taking on somebody who is clearly outmatched because they were only taught what is essentially dance-fighting.

At twelve, Harry would be starting puberty, which is why he's having some bodily reactions to things he previously wouldn't react to at all. Not that his thoughts on it have changed, though; it's just purely biological.

Liv is slowly starting to develop her own sense of humor, based on Harry's sarcasm and Luna's whimsy, and it starts with bad puns.

Body modification—be it through tattoos, piercings, hardware or wetware—is a running theme in cyberpunk, and it fits the theme of the series for Harry to be continuously pushing forward in that regard; in accepting tattoos, his cohorts are dipping their toes into the punk motif with him, essentially committing to the journey ahead of them. And, as always, there will be blowback for having that kind of permanent magical defense inked onto them.

And yes, that is a multi-layered Captain America shield of pure magical force that he can't throw. Because that's what magical Harry Potter who reads comic books would do for protection once he figured out he could do it.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	19. Shadows of War

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 19: Shadows of War**

* * *

Harry couldn't remember much of the dream, only that, in it, Hermione was in his personal space and not much else, softly whispering words in his ears that he couldn't quite comprehend in a sultry voice closer to Grace's than her own, her fingers lightly caressing his skin.

Then, he awoke, tumescent, a sticky puddle on his belly.

He rushed to the shower to clean himself off, but the cold water did little to make the swelling go away; in the end, he had to relieve himself twice more before it finally returned to normal.

He didn't have any romantic feelings towards his best friend; in fact, he didn't have much in the way of feelings at all. What he appreciated the most about her wasn't her appearance, even though he would freely admit he found her physically attractive in a nerdy librarian kind of way, but as he had told her repeatedly, he had seen more and better, especially now that Liv alone gave him an eyeful every single day.

What he appreciated the most about her was her intelligence and inquisitive mind, even if she never seemed to want to do more with what she learned than keep it in a neatly categorized little box in the library of her mind.

But that wasn't the context in which he had dreamed about her, and that left him bewildered.

**~ooOoo~**

Harry hadn't expected to see Hermione until Friday for _Shadowrun_, so when she showed to Bourne's Comics and Games Thursday morning, he had not exactly prepared himself to face her for the first time since having a wet dream about her.

"I wrote alumni like you suggested," announced the Ravenclaw as she sat down at the table opposite the Boy-Who-Lived. "It took me nearly fifty letters, but I think I found out when the Chamber of Secrets was last opened."

"Yeah, when was that?" asked the Hufflepuff, distractedly.

"In Forty-Two," Hermione said, before stopping and studying the boy for a moment. Then, she suddenly snapped her fingers in front of his face, making him start in surprise.

"Yeah, I'm listening," he said.

"What's the matter?" the Ravenclaw demanded. "Am I boring you?"

"It's not like that," Harry said.

"It certainly looks that way," Hermione huffed.

"Really, it's not like that," insisted the Hermetic mage.

"Then what is it like?" asked the bushy-haired girl.

"You really don't want to know."

"No, I do. I want to hear your excuses."

"I had a dream about you the other night," Harry said softly.

"You had a dream about me?" Hermione asked, and Harry nodded. "What was I doing in that dream?"

"It was, uh, an erotic dream," mutter the Hermetic mage.

"Oh," said the girl, before blushing furiously when she fully comprehended what he meant. "Oh! And I was…?"

"_Very_."

"Did I…?"

"A little bit, yeah…"

"And did you…?"

"_Oh yeah_."

A really awkward silence descended upon the pair, the girl bright red and the boy shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Finally, the Hermetic mage decided there had been enough silence and asked, "So, what'd you find out about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"What about my Chamber of Secrets?" asked the Ravenclaw, flustered.

"_The_ Chamber of Secrets," corrected the Hufflepuff. "What did you find out about it?"

"Oh, that!" Hermione said, flushing an even deeper shade of red. "According to a few of the people who wrote back, many students were petrified during the forty-two/forty-three school year, with a single fatality in Myrtle Warren; they didn't mention the Chamber of Secrets, but the petrification of the students matches the petrification of the cat and the girl who was with Colin."

"Did they ever catch a perpetrator?" Harry asked.

"A few of the answers named Rubeus Hagrid as being expelled for hiding an acromantula," said the Ravenclaw, frowning, "but I've never read anything about acromantulas being able to petrify their victims."

"Sounds like a stitch up, then," said the Hermetic mage. "If I was covering up a series of almost-murders, that's what I'd do, find a berk to take the fall while I got away with it, and the trog sounds like the perfect fall guy if he was stupid enough to try to hide a giant magic spider on Hogwarts grounds."

"I couldn't find anything else about the Chamber of Secrets or the Beast of Slytherin," Hermione said, consulting her notes. "I tried asking Madam Pince for help, but she told me she was forbidden to assist any kind of research on those subjects."

"So, nothing new there," Harry said, and Hermione nodded. "If that's the case, I'd begin by looking at the final victim, Myrtle Warren, and then work my way back through the timeline of the attacks. Maybe that'll give a clue as to where the Chamber is."

"I think there's a ghost named Moaning Myrtle who haunts the second-floor girl bathroom," the Ravenclaw remarked. "Maybe that's related, maybe it's not, but that's where I think I'll start."

"You do that," said the Hermetic mage, as he checked his watch. "I've got a meeting I need to be at."

**~ooOoo~**

"Hey kid, are you lost?"

Meeting on the waterfront had been Harry's idea; it had given him clear lines of sight to the rendezvous to scout from, and when he was certain his contact was arriving without a tail, he went to meet him, leaving Liv in overwatch with an assault rifle.

"Do you still have that Glock I asked you to get rid of?" Harry asked.

"I held onto it; I thought I might need some leverage."

"Well, it's useless as that; there are no bodies that'll match it, not unless you've used it since."

"You look different."

"It's amazing what a good wig and some silicone prosthetics can do."

"You have the money?"

"You got the goods?"

"Twenty Claymore mines, twenty-five pounds of Semtex, a hundred feet of detcord, two dozen detonators and blasting caps, an MSG90, a Barrett M82, a half-dozen Glock 19s and a couple Walther PPKs, and sound suppressors, flash hiders, scopes, tripods and five hundred rounds of ammunition to match."

"Let's see them."

The German arms dealer opened up the back of the panel van he had arrived in, and Harry took the time to examine every item before he tossed him a small bag of coins.

"We agreed on thirty-five thousand pounds," Karl said.

"That's forty-five thousand pounds, in gold so it can't be traced, for your troubles," said the boy.

"In that case, it's a pleasure doing business with you."

"Likewise."

"Tell me, though, are you planning to go hunting a tank with that stuff?"

"Something like that, but not even close. Just keep in touch, since I might need to make another order somewhere down the line."

"Will do. You might be a kid, but I'm serious when I say this: you're my favorite customer."

"Yeah? How's that?"

"Deals with you always go smooth, and you always pay me extra."

"It's good to keep your friends happy."

**~ooOoo~**

Harry was nodding along to "Nuthin' but a 'G' Thang", from the album _The Chronic_ that Shaun had given him for Christmas, cleaning the safe house kitchen with industrial-strength degreaser, when the phone rang, and he paused his Discman, meaning to pick up the phone, but Liv got to it before he did.

"Bear, phone!" the dragon called from the living room, and Harry put down the scrubber he had been using on the countertop, taking off his rubber gloves and leaving them on the sink before carefully washing his hands and going to the living room to pick up the telephone.

"Speaking," said the Hermetic mage.

"Uh, Harry, mother found out about the tattoo, and now she's really angry and demanding to speak with your guardians," said the voice on the other end of the phone

"I'm sorry, who's this?" Harry asked.

"Oh, right, it's me, Miles."

"Okay, Miles," said the Hermetic mage. "Why don't we all meet at the Soykaf Source tomorrow morning before the train back to Hogwarts? It's right across the street from the Leaky Cauldron, about a thirty-minute walk or a ten-minute cab ride away from King's Cross and Platform Nine and Three Quarters."

There was a muffled conversation away from the telephone, before Myla returned to the other end of the call. "Mother says she'll be there to give you a piece of her mind."

"Well, then, I'd rather get it all out of the way at once, so I'll try to organize it so everybody will be there at the same time. Seven-thirty work for her?"

The conversation away from the phone restarted, before the Slytherin said, "She says yes."

"All right then, I'll see her then."

It took Harry another half-hour to finish arranging the next morning's meetings with his circle and their parents, and only then did he make one last call.

"Hey, Pace, it's me, Harry."

"Oh, hey, Harry. What can I do for you?"

"Are you busy tomorrow morning? I kind of need a favor."

"You saved my life, so I'll always be there whenever you need me."

"I need you tomorrow morning, starting at six; will that get in the way of your job in construction?"

"I quit that job mid-November, and I've been doing what you suggested since. I get to make my own hours, and it pays way better too."

"What about the danger and illegal aspects?"

"I don't have a problem with illegal, just immoral and unethical."

"But you're smuggling for, well, people of ill repute."

"I'm very selective about my clients, and through them, I'm finding ways to help take out the scum of the Earth wherever I find them."

"That makes it sound like you might need my help one of these days."

"I might. So, tomorrow morning at six?"

"Yeah. Liv and I'll meet you at the station, and we can work out the plan from there."

"All right, I'll see you tomorrow."

**~ooOoo~**

Soykaf wasn't Harry's invention; in fact, in _Shadowrun_, it was the drink of choice for the masses who couldn't afford real coffee but still wanted their daily caffeine, and in the real, with soybean prices at a low and caffeine being ridiculously cheap due to the amount available from the decaffeination of coffee beans to make decaffeinated coffee, the Soykaf Source was starting to market and sell soykaf as a cheaper and healthier alternative to coffee, even if it tasted like various flavors of soy milk ranging from plain to sweetened to artificially-added vanilla, banana, chocolate or even coffee flavors.

As the owner of the Soykaf Source, Harry felt like he should at least push the house drink where possible, and thus, he had ordered a round of coffee-flavored soykaf for the gathered parents, many who looked ready to give him a piece of their mind.

That meant he had to take the offensive.

"You really should get up off your daughter," Harry said to the man with long blonde hair who had both his hands on Luna, his face extremely close to her head. "If people didn't know better, they'd think you have a complex about her."

If looks could kill, the Hermetic mage would have been in pure self-defense mode, but as it couldn't, he simply held the blonde's glare with a dead-eyed stare of his own until the man finally removed himself from the Hufflepuff girl's personal space.

"Where's Liv?" Luna asked, looking around.

"She's running a small errand for me," the second-year Hufflepuff explained, sitting back in his seat and taking a sip from the cup of water in front of him. "All right, let's hear all of your complaints."

"How dare you give my daughter a tattoo!" said the woman who was Myla's mother indignantly. "And to let her hack her hair off like that too!"

Fay's father had a similar grievance.

Harry considered the girls from the rival houses; both had cut their hair short since he had last seen them at Grace's studio, with Fay sporting a swept-sideways pixie cut with the sides of her head cropped close to her skin, all dyed a light pastel purple, and Myla wearing her jet black hair in a cheek-length layered bob, though when she brushed her hair behind her ear, he could see most of the side of her head was shaved close to her skin.

"First off, I didn't give your children tattoos; I hired a licensed tattoo artist for that," said the Hermetic mage. "Second, I simply gave them the information and the opportunity; they could have refused, and they made the decision on their own."

"My Luna is too young!" cried her father. "You had no right…!"

The Hermetic mage was already tired of long-haired man's hysterics.

*_beep_*

"Rook? Whip. Send it. Out."

There was a crack, the sound of breaking glass as a hole formed in the cafe's glass storefront, a line of blood across the blond man's cheek and a smoking crater in the table.

Luna's father reached up to touch the open wound on his face, then yelped in surprise.

As the adults at the table looked around in shock, trying to figure out what had happened, Harry reached into his haversack and pulled out his Beretta, setting it down flat on the table and leaving his hand on it, index finger just off the trigger.

"The next one goes inside you."

"I am _not_ your hero," said the Hermetic mage, his voice harsh with implied violence. "I am _not_ your savior, and if you're expecting the Boy-Who-Lived to be some kind of knightly protector, you're going to have a bad couple of years. I'm a shadowrunner, a soldier in the secret war that is already here and still yet to come, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure those with me make it to the end, but this _is_ a war, so there _will_ be casualties, and I have no problems starting here and now if you're going to get in my way.

"I told your children what I knew, gave them an opportunity to make a choice, and they made it themselves, without outside interference," the self-styled shadowrunner continued. "You may not like it, but they had the right to know about it and to get ready for what's just over the horizon, because they, like me, will be caught up in it whether they like it or not."

"What are you talking about?" asked Myla's father, eyes still fixed on the Beretta 92FS the boy was tapping the side of.

"You-Know-Who? He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? He's coming, and when he arrives, there will be a reckoning," Harry said calmly.

"That's impossible," said Fay's father. "You defeated him!"

"And yet, they never found a body," said the Hermetic mage. "Last year, he was at Hogwarts, possessing the Defense professor."

"I can confirm that," Hermione said. "I was there and saw it with my own eyes."

"But Hogwarts is the safest place in the whole world!" Hermione's mother protested in dismay. "Professor McGonagall assured us of it herself! Surely the Ministry would do something!"

"There is no way something like that could happen under Dumbledore's watch!" Luna's father agreed.

Myla's mother scoffed. "Dumbledore only cares about his petty little fiefdom and holding the moral high ground," she said contemptuously. "As for the Ministry, it's positions of power have long been held by blood purists and their intricate networks of marriage-alliances; there's no help to be had there."

"This year, we've had the Chamber of Secrets opened, and a cat, a student and a ghost petrified," the shadowrunner continued, and the parents around the table look horrified. "From your reactions, I'm guessing you were never informed of this, or the fact there likely could have been many more victims had Liv not started producing Ribbons, magical items which protect their wearers to various status ailments, including petrification. One of my assets survived an encounter with the creature causing the petrification, but when he reported it to Dumbledore, he was told he was delusional, that he didn't know what he saw, and was then threatened with expulsion from Hogwarts, even though he had a polaroid photo of the creature, which Dumbledore actually tore up; a second survivor also tried to report his encounter to the headmaster and got the same response."

"Slytherin's beast is loose?" gasped the woman who was Myla's mother, sharing a look of concern with her husband. "We must pull our daughter out of Hogwarts until it is safe again."

"With the tattoo, which has the same effects as a Ribbon, she's perfectly safe," Harry said. "Besides, if you pull her out now, you'll blow her carefully crafted cover in Slytherin."

"That's it? Is that all she is to you, a spy in Slytherin?" Myla's father demanded, rising out of his seat before suddenly sitting down as a second bullet whizzed by his ear and added another tiny smoking crater to the table.

"Miles is my friend, and she volunteered for the task," said the shadowrunner; when her parents looked at her, the Slytherin girl nodded in confirmation. "You raised her well and she has a good head on her shoulders, but she understood, once I told her the full story, what was at stake, she _chose_ to become my eyes and ears in Slytherin."

"You're sending her to her death!" protested the former Miss Crouch. "If the Death Eaters were to find out…"

"What I'm sending her to is the program this coming summer," Harry said. "It's a training camp in the States that teaches all the necessary skills of a covert agent, which I have already underwent this summer past. Miles will need a passport, but if she pays attention and absorbs everything Jack has to teach her, she'll be more than qualified when the time comes.

"Miles' isn't _playing _spy; she _will _be a fully-trained covert operative, because that's what she'll need to be. This is not a game, it's life or death, and I'm going to make sure I do everything I can to ensure the best chances of survival for those with me."

"You said there were students who survived encounters with the Beast of Slytherin?" asked Neville's grandmother calmly, and the shadowrunner nodded. "What did they say it looked like?"

"A humongous slottin' snake," Harry said shortly.

"It can't be," whispered Fay's father.

"It must be," said Myla's mother.

"It's a basilisk, isn't it?" Luna's father said.

The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw shared a glance, and Hermione scribbled something in her memo pad.

"What's a basilisk?" asked the Ravenclaw's mother.

"The basilisk is a great serpent, commonly known as the 'King of Serpents'," Neville's grandmother calmly explained. "It's commonly bred by dark wizards, but only a Parselmouth can control one, and looking a basilisk in the eye results in immediate death."

"That would explain Myrtle Warren," Harry said flatly.

"But a basilisk can't petrify their victims!" Fay's father protested.

"Think about it, though," the oldest woman present said, oddly calm. "Salazar Slytherin _was_ a Parselmouth and had such an affinity for snakes and serpents that he made them the symbol of his house; what would be more fitting to guard his secret chambers than the King of Serpents?"

"Well, then, that's settled," said the shadowrunner. "All we need to know now is where the Chamber of Secrets is."

"Why would you need to know _that_?" Luna's father asked.

"To seal the blighter, obviously," said the Hermetic mage. "Dumbledore obviously isn't going to be doing anything about it, the way he's neck-deep in denial like it's the river, so somebody else is going to have to do something about it."

"And that somebody is you?" asked Neville's grandmother.

"It certainly doesn't seem like anybody else wants to do anything about it," said the shadowrunner with a shrug. "All right, does anybody else have any complaints?"

"The tattoo!" said Luna's father. "I demand to speak with your guardians!"

"My parents are dead, as you well know, my aunt and uncle are in the wind, plus, I'm an emancipated minor," Harry said calmly. "Anything you want to say, you'll have to say to me."

"You had no right!" Luna's father said. "You've ruined my beautiful baby girl!"

"It's a tattoo," said the Hermetic mage, pulling up the left sleeve of his shirt to reveal the sleeve on the skin underneath. "She _just_ has an anklet; I've got a full sleeve, yet nobody is suggesting I've been ruined. Ain't that some drek?"

Luna's father started to rise out of his seat when Luna stopped him. "Daddy, if you make a scene here, I'll never speak to you ever again," she said sweetly. "And I'll get all kinds of tattoos and show all of the boys my super-special, secret, private places."

"If you show everybody, it's not a secret," Hermione reasoned.

"And you're not showing any of the boys," Fay added. "Except Harry, I don't think you even know boys exist."

"There's Neville over there," Luna said innocently before waving. "Hi, Neville! Would _you_ like to see my Chamber of Secrets?"

"Don't drag me into this," said the chubby Gryffindor boy. "You're just going to ruin my high."

"You mustn't show anyone but daddy your super-special, secret private places!"

_That_ caused a scene.

Within an instant, numerous adults had dogpiled onto the man with the long blond hair, pinning him to the ground as his daughter only looked on dreamily with a smile sweet as cotton candy.

"That's your own daughter, you filthy beast," snarled Myla's mother, seizing the restrained wizard's wand.

"I didn't do that," Harry said.

The other children at the table only nodded as the police were called.

**~ooOoo~**

Detective Price must have been demoted following her undercover operation falling apart because Harry immediately recognized her when she responded to the disturbance at the Soykaf Source in uniform.

The boy waited patiently until she came to take his statement, preparing his approach.

"Describe in your own words what happened here," said the woman, focused on her notebook.

"Can we talk somewhere more private, Detective Price?" Harry asked.

"It's just Officer Price," Evangeline said. "We can use the back room, if you'd like."

"I'd like that," said the shadowrunner.

"Right this way, then, Mister…"

"Whiplash," Harry said, as he followed the detective.

"So, what did you want to speak with me about in private?" asked Officer Price, as Harry shut the back room door behind them.

"_Creo ignem_," said the Hermetic mage, without forming any _mudra_ or _kuji-in_.

"You!" said the police officer, eyes widening in recognition of the phrase. "But you were… How did…? How are you even…?"

"Sit down and shut up," Harry said, but the former detective refused. "What I'm about to tell you will either make your career, or get you sectioned."

"You already ruined my career!" Evangeline shouted back. "Why should I even believe you?!"

"Because you are about to either make a very big case and get your career back on track, or you're not going to remember this conversation," said the boy.

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, I'm telling you how things are."

"Fine," huffed the former detective. "How _are_ things?"

"Magic is real, and magical people exist all around you in secret," Harry said. When the detective scoffed, he held his cane aloft in the air, passing Astral power through it before releasing his hold on it, leaving it floating in the air.

"That could be just a trick," said the former detective dismissively.

"Fine then," Harry said, flushing the Astral power from his cane and catching it as it dropped out of the air before passing Astral power through one of the shield knot tattoos on his forearm.

Instantly, one transparent black disc appeared, and the Hermetic mage swung it around, slicing its zero-thickness disc of pure magical force through a vase on the table between him and the police officer, sending the top tumbling to the tabletop as it was cut clean through.

"Bloody hell!" Evangeline ejaculated, jumping backwards. "Is that…?"

"Magic? Yes."

The police officer slumped into the offered seat. "Is that how you set the Gentle Touch on fire?"

"I can neither confirm or deny whether I was involved in the incident in question," said the shadowrunner.

"Fine," Evangeline huffed. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Magicals, they believe themselves above the law of normal society," the Hermetic mage said. "The paedophile who's been abusing his daughter? He's one of them, and when they find out you have him, they'll sweep in and free him, all while erasing all of your memories that this even happened."

"They can do that?" asked the former detective in a panic.

"Yes, and once he disappears, they'll put him back with his daughter, so the abuse will just continue, on and on," Harry said.

"That's horrible," said the detective. "Why are you telling me this?"

"There's not going to be any justice for the little girl, unless _you_ do something about it."

"I'm a police officer! I can't just take the law into my own hands."

"You helped me back at the Gentle Touch."

"You had me at gunpoint!"

"And you're _okay_ with a paedophile being allowed to continue abusing his daughter?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"The magicals are afraid he'll spill the beans, but if he's dead, they'll think there's nothing to worry about."

"You're asking me to commit murder! I could arrest you for that!"

"I haven't solicited you for anything; all you have is me telling you how things will happen, and if you even report this, you'll most likely get sectioned."

"Then what _are_ you suggesting?"

"If something were to happen to the CCTV in the holding facilities, and then something were to happen to the paedophile, nobody would shed any tears."

"I won't kill him."

"I'm not asking you to."

"What are you asking me to do, exactly?"

The shadowrunner took a business card out of his pocket. "This is a contact of mine, an arms dealer, though he does his business in England legally," he said. "If something were to happen to the cameras and justice was then somehow served, I'm certain he'd be happy to supply you with names of those illegally trafficking arms into London. Just tell him Whiplash sent you."

"I have to think about this."

"No, you don't. You already know what you're going to do, and it's not going to be to let that paedophile go back to abusing his daughter. You can't just tell me you won't do it because you think if you do, you'll be falling down a slippery slope into being a bent cop; the moral implications of letting somebody you know is a paedophile loose into the world to abuse more children isn't something I believe you can live with."

"But if you do this, then you're no different than them, and you're magical too."

"There's the moral, the ethical, and the legal, and sometimes, they don't intersect the way we'd like them to, and if we're given the opportunity, we can and should do something about it. That's something you'll have to live with, because either the paedophile doesn't see daylight, or he gets to go home and abuse his daughter some more, and you won't even remember it enough to do anything about it."

**~ooOoo~**

The shadowrunner plopped down in the seat across from the redhead nose deep in a copy of _The Guardian_.

"How do you feel about paedophiles?" he asked.

"If you mean 'pedophiles', I hope they all die and burn in hell," spat the woman, folding her newspaper close to reveal the daywalker. "What Luna's father's done to her, I hope he dies horribly in prison."

"He won't go to prison," Harry said. "They'll make him disappear from whatever cell they try holding him in and put him back with Dia, then make the cops forget it ever happened, so I've got to ask… how do you feel about killing people?"

"It's not my favorite thing to do, but if it's necessary…"

"Well, if you were to follow him to whatever facility they decide to hold him at and something were to happen to him _if_ the CCTV were to stop working, I'm sure nobody would really shed a tear."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Probably."

"Oh, I'm _so_ going to enjoy this," said the daywalker, fading into the shadows.

Harry sat alone at the table for a few minutes, enjoying a cup of sweetened, unflavored soy milk, before Neville's grandmother sat down across from him.

"These children bury a few dead, and they think they know what war is," said the elderly woman. "We haven't been properly introduced; I'm Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother."

"I'd say it's a pleasure, but we both know that's not true," said the shadowrunner. "Let's cut the pleasantries and get to the point: what is it that you want?"

"You said you were a soldier," said the elderly Longbottom. "What kind of soldier are you?"

"The kind who, if my commanding officer told me to hurry back, I'd have put the Germans in the ground without a second thought."

"That isn't very gentlemanly."

"I'm not a gentleman; I'm a soldier. I get things done."

"You know, I like you," Augusta Longbottom said.

"I don't need your approval," Harry answered.

"That's what I like about you," the Longbottom matriarch said. "When the world was at war the second time, I was with the Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare. We did what we had to to win.

"If the war's coming like you think it is, I wouldn't want my Neville following the fools in the Ministry, or, Merlin forbid, Albus Dumbledore; you're exactly the type of leader this war is going to need, and I'm glad he's chosen to side with you, because you're the type who is going to win no matter what."

"Whatever it takes, no matter the cost," the shadowrunner intoned grimly.

"No matter the cost," agreed the elderly woman.

* * *

**Author's** **Notes:** And already blowback. Why an erotic dream? _Thurisaz_ (ᚦ), in addition to its defensive denotation, also represents male sexuality and fertilization, so while it also serves as a protective rune within the context of the sleeve, it'd only make sense it'd also slowly start affecting him in this other manner as well.

Then there's always that awkward interaction you have after you've had an erotic dream about somebody you know.

Keep your friends rich, your enemies rich and wait to see which is which.

While there's certainly truth in what Harry's telling the gathered parents and guardians, he's also couched omissions and deceptions within the facts, because he is, after all, a manipulative bastard.

Remember that, in the '90s, body modification was fairly uncommon, unlike today, where you could probably see nose rings and tattoos on every main street; it was also a time when men who got tattoos were "tough", but women who got tattoos were considered... not in the best light. It was a very sexist time, those '90s.

Sometimes, you see something and it just sticks with you; in my case, it was a picture of Luna's father being all up in her personal space that I found on the Fandom wiki when I was doing research for _Physical Adept_. Once I saw it, I just couldn't shake it, until I found myself asking, "In what kind of situation would that be a thing?", and then took it to a very cynical conclusion.

And yes, Luna knew exactly what she was doing in that instant; she's not nearly as scattered as she may pretend to be.

The return of Evangeline Price. Good call by those who thought she'd return; she is meant to be a recurring character that explores the crossover between the normal and the magical, and how sometimes magicals can let things get away from thems because they might not be thinking about how certain things play out with normals.

Harry putting out a hit on a paedophile to protect the victim is completely in-character for him when you consider the fact he has always sympathized with victims, particularly those powerless to defend themselves, be it in Vegas with the pimp selling underaged hookers or in the massage parlor with the sex workers held hostage due to their legal documents being locked away. Involving Patience was just a plus; it gave Harry a chance to see what he could use her for, after spending so much time and effort building that relationship with essentially an intelligent apex predator.

The conversation with Augusta Longbottom isn't a throwaway.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	20. My Bloody Valentine

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 20: My Bloody Valentine**

* * *

**Author's Note:** I've been told by my editor to include a _**Trigger warning**_ for this chapter because it contains sexual violence.

* * *

"Thank you, Harry."

The shadowrunner immediately looked up from the math problem he was solving at his desk.

"This is the first time you've ever called me that," observed the Hermetic mage. "It's always been 'Wolfgang' or 'Amadeus' or 'Tolliver'."

"Don't forget 'Phoenix', 'Gideon', 'Jacoby' or 'Everest'," Luna added with a smile.

"So, why am I being thanked?" Harry asked.

"Thank you, for what you did to daddy," the blonde said. "I received an owl this morning; he was torn apart by a pack of wild animals while the police had him in holding."

"I've been here the entire time, so it couldn't have been me," Harry protested without any real conviction.

"But you could put somebody on it," Luna said perceptively. "Patience, for example."

"If you think I had your father put down like you're suggesting, why are you thanking me?"

"I didn't know how to tell him 'no', even though I really wanted it to stop," said the girl. "When mummy died, daddy said it was my turn to take over all the things she used to do; I thought it meant cooking and cleaning, but then daddy wanted me to take care of the other things mummy used to too.

"He told me that I was so pretty and looked so much like mummy, and I was scared daddy wouldn't love me anymore if I said 'no', so I did it, even though I didn't want to. Every time we did something after that, I wanted to beg him to stop, but I was scared he wouldn't love me anymore, and after a few times, I was scared he'd ask why I wanted to stop now after we had done it so many times already."

"Yeah, I don't know how to respond to that," Harry said, fidgeting in his seat.

"I just wanted to say 'thank you'," Luna said.

"How are you always so calm, even when you're talking about a traumatic experience like this?" Harry asked. "What's your secret?"

Luna exhaled deeply, then took a deep breath. "When it first started, I felt like I had lost control of my life completely," she said. "All I could do was go along with what was happening to me. Eventually, I just got used to taking things as they come and not worrying about things that are out of my control. Just go with the flow, you know, and anything bad that happens to me, it just happens. Nothing I can do about it, so nothing to worry about."

"That sounds like a coping mechanism," Harry said. "Being so passive in your own life doesn't seem like a good thing, though."

Luna shrugged. "Nothing can hurt me. Or scare me. Or surprise me.

"Listen, if there's _anything_ I could ever do to help you…"

"Let me stop you right there," Harry interjected. "I didn't get rid of the person abusing you just so I could take advantage of you myself. What kind of monster do you take me for, Dia?"

"The best kind," said Luna with a sweet smile. "I like you a lot, you know?"

"Look, you're just feeling grateful now, but things are only going to get a lot harder for you from here on out," Harry said. "You're an orphan now, which means you're probably going to have to go live with relatives, and they might not like the new burden you represent."

"I don't think I have any living relatives," Luna said. "I've never met any."

"That's even worse," Harry said. "That'd make you a ward of the state."

"You could adopt me, like you did Liv," suggested the Hufflepuff girl.

"What about me?" asked the dragon, finally looking away from the television on which she was playing _The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past_.

"We could be sisters," said the blonde brightly.

"We'd need to get your paperwork in order," Harry said. "You _have_ paperwork, right?"

"Paperwork?" Luna asked.

"Like a birth certificate?"

"I don't know what that is."

"A record of your birth," explained the dragon.

"I was born at St. Mungos, so there might be one in the Ministry."

"That's not a place where I'd want to do an acquisition run, so let's just say, legally speaking, you don't exist to the normal world, which is a problem, because I exist in the normal world, and that's where I'd try to adopt you."

"Is there anything you can do about it?"

"I could ask Jason to get you papered, but that might be problematic, since it'd probably conflict with any of your paperwork the Ministry has."

"What if we destroyed that paperwork?" Liv suggested. "It'd be less targeted than an acquisition run so it'd be easier, and since it won't be as targeted, it'll be much more difficult to identify the true target of the run."

"Even then, it'd have to wait until the summer," said the shadowrunner. "It's not like we can just leave campus at will right now, and somebody might try something in the intervening period."

"If they try anything, I'll pull them apart," the dragon growled fiercely.

"I know," Harry said. "We'll just have to keep them at bay until it's handled."

**~ooOoo~**

January went without incident, melting into February in a blur of lessons, independent study, gaming club meetings, and hours upon hours of research and development; he was closing in on a solution to _polymorph any object_, he could feel it, but there was still so much work to be done before he would get the results he wanted.

"Oy, you! 'Arry Potter!" shouted a dwarf one Sunday afternoon, as Harry emerged from an abandoned classroom he had been performing research and development in; since the end of Christmas break, he had traded hunting and foraging for more research time, choosing to instead stock the trunk that contained his industrial kitchen with enough frozen food meats and vegetables to last the rest of the term.

The Hermetic mage kept walking, having no intention of being entangled in the scheme he had heard the useless Defense professor was responsible for.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," said the dwarf, twanging his harp in a threatening manner as he ran after the Boy-Who-Lived.

"I wouldn't advise it, if you like your kneecaps," growled the shadowrunner, quickening his pace.

The dwarf managed to get one word out on key before he screamed in pain as gidgee found bone and cartilage.

"My knee!" shrieked the dwarf as he crumpled to the ground.

"I did warn you."

No other dwarf tried to deliver Valentine's Day messages to the Boy-Who-Lived that day.

**~ooOoo~**

"This just doesn't make any sense!"

It was Valentine's Day afternoon in the gaming club, and Harry had made a flourless chocolate cake with fudge buttercream frosting to serve with cold milk as refreshments, and Hermione was fuming between bites and sips. He had made it clear to its attendees that the club session was not a place for giving him Valentine's Day messages, which he then demonstrated by having the first person to try to give him one thrown out.

"How many discrepancies have you found?" Harry asked.

The Ravenclaw checked her memo pad again. "Two hundred nineteen across all of his books," she said.

"That's a lot," Colin said as he joined them at the table, carrying a piece of cake on a paper plate and a stack of polaroid photographs documenting the celebration.

"I want to ask him about it during his office hours today, but I'm wondering if I should do another pass on his books first," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"It's dangerous to go alone!" Liv quipped, in the midst of devouring a whole cake by herself. "We'll come with."

"Yeah, it's better to strike while the iron's hot," Harry agreed. "You want to go now?"

"I might as well," said the Ravenclaw, wiping her mouth and pushing her plate away.

"Can you watch the club for me while we're gone?" Harry asked Colin, and the first-year nodded an affirmation.

The walk to the celebrity author's office was short, with Liv and Luna trailing a few steps behind the second-year students hand-in-hand, a common sight for the first-year Hufflepuffs.

Standing at the office door, Hermione hesitated for a moment, looking to her friend for support.

"If you're going to question his books, you might as well make a grand entrance," Harry advised.

Taking a deep breath, the Ravenclaw gathered herself, then threw the door open.

Time seemed to stand still in that instant.

The foppish Defense professor must not have expected company, as his pants and trousers were around his ankles, leaving him exposed below the belt.

Thrown over his desk, tears streaking her face, was a girl with her shirt torn open, her black skirt hiked up over her waist and her Hufflepuff yellow necktie pulled tight around her throat, the other end in one of the professor's hand, with his other hand yanked on the girl's long plait of hair.

He must have forgotten to lock the door.

"**CONTACT!**" roared the shadowrunner, stepping forward and shoving the Ravenclaw behind him with one quick motion as the professor seized his wand, laying on his desk aside the crying girl, and pointed it at the intruders, shouting "_Obliviate_!"

The tip of the professor's wand glowed green for a moment.

"On your six!" the dragon declared, placing her left hand on the shadowrunner's shoulder as she stacked up behind him, her right hand pointing her Beretta at the professor; in front of her, the Hermetic mage had drawn his own pistol, training it on the author, who had yanked the half-dressed girl up by her hair and was hiding behind her, his wand pointed at her neck.

"I've got one hostile, with a hostage as a human shield," the Hermetic mage said.

"I'll kill her! I swear I will!" Lockhart shouted, wand hand shaking.

"I have the solution," Liv whispered into the Hufflepuff boy's ear.

"Take it," the shadowrunner growled back.

Instantly, the wand in the professor's hand exploded into splinters as the dragon fired her pistol; surprised, the fop instinctively released his hostage to clutch his injured hand, and in an instant, the shadowrunner closed the gap, leaping over the desk with a flying forearm that collided with the Defense professor's jaw before firing his pistol rapidly as he swept his arm back on the reverse directing, stitching the floor — and the author's legs — with bullets as he emptied the magazine downwards.

"Argh!" Lockhart cried, his legs giving way under him. Before he could collapse completely to the floor, though, the shadowrunner had seized him by the collar, striking him in the face repeatedly with the butt of his pistol in a flurry of unbridled violence.

"Stop it!" Hermione shouted as she checked on the professor's victim. "He can't answer questions if he's dead!"

The boy paused long enough to holster his pistol, then grabbed the man's splinter-filled hand, bending it forcefully in the wrong direction.

"How many?" he demanded calmly.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" the fop protested.

"Wrong answer," growled the shadowrunner darkly. Then, he wrenched the man's index finger backwards; with a bone-crunching snap, the finger broke at the joint, dangling uselessly against the back of the man's hand.

"Aughhh!" screamed the professor, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

"How many?" the shadowrunner repeated.

"I lost count! I lost count!" Lockhart shrieked.

"I don't believe you," the Hermetic mage growled, as he broke another finger. "Cunts you like, you always keep count of your conquests."

"I… I have a book…," admitted the author weakly, on the verge of passing out. "Over there… black cover… silver and red ribbon…"

The shadowrunner looked at the dragon, who quickly found the book the author had indicated. Opening it, she quickly flipped through it, expression growing increasingly distressed, before she finally turned it towards the Hermetic mage, who only took one look at the page the dragon had stopped at and broke the remaining intact fingers on the hand he was holding.

"Three students since _January_?!" the Hermetic mage growled, as the author whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"What's the harm if they don't remember?" protested the Defense professor weakly, as though it was an acceptable justification.

"Rook, hold this drekhead," snarled the shadowrunner, suddenly wrenching the man's hand sideways, making him shriek in pain as his wrist broke and his knees buckled.

Without a word, the dragon tossed the little black book onto the desk and grabbed the man by his shoulders, pulling him to his feet while the shadowrunner pulled his switchblade from his pocket, flipping it open and seizing the author by his bollocks, slicing them clean off with one vicious cut before ramming the blade of his knife into the man's chest just below the sternum and forcing the blade down, shoving the severed gonads into the open cavity and then pulling his intestines out of his belly, tossing them over a candlestick besides the office window.

"Send 'im."

Without a word, the dragon threw the Defense professor out the window behind them, and he screamed as he broke through wood and glass, grabbing uselessly at the air as he fell, his organs tearing from his insides as he plummeted to his death, body splattering on the grass below on impact after he was defenestrated and disemboweled in the same death.

"It's okay, you're safe now," Luna told the sobbing girl, gently draping her robe over her and holding her close comfortingly.

"We have to report this to the headmaster," the Ravenclaw said.

"You really think he'd care about a serial rapist?" snarled the shadowrunner. "Last year, he hired _Voldemort_ as the Defense professor."

"Professor McGonagall, then," Hermione proposed.

"As deputy headmistress, she's Dumbledore's creature if there ever was one," the boy argued.

"Then who _can_ we report this to?" the second-year girl asked.

"Nobody," the Hermetic mage said. "But if you must insist, her head of house will have to do."

"That'd be Professor Sprout," Hermione said. "I'll go see if she's in her office."

"I'll take Susan back to her room and stay with her until she feels better," Luna volunteered, helping the girl with the torn clothes and tear-stained face to her feet.

"You didn't have to kill him," said the Ravenclaw, pausing at the door, looking torn.

"You were on his target list," Liv said, jerking her head in the direction of the little black book laying on the deceased professor's desk. "If you had come here by yourself, you'd have been a victim, just like her."

"What about justice?" she asked.

"He's a serial rapist who uses magic to erase the memory of his crimes from his victims' minds," the shadowrunner snarled. "I gave him justice."

"Street justice! He should have been tried in court!"

The Hermetic mage fixed the Ravenclaw with a hard look. "Just go get Sprout," he growled.

Hermione disappeared through the door, leaving the dragon and the shadowrunner alone in the dead professor's office.

"We need to sanitize this scene, make it like the kill never happened," Harry said, and the dragon nodded. "No screams from below, so nobody's found the body yet."

"I'll handle that." Liv said, before going out of the window in a twisting dive.

The shadowrunner looked around the room, examining the chaos that had been left in the wake of the incident. One _disintegrate_ reduced the entrails to dust, and one _perdo corporem_ cleaned the rest of the blood and viscera from the room; once the room was cleaned of the evidence of the torture and murder, the boy straightened it out, returning it to a semblance of organization while pocketing the little black book, then dug out the slugs from the floor with his switchblade before repairing the rug and the wood underneath with _mending_. A _perdo herbam_ took care of the wooden wand fragments, and he collected the dragon heartstring that had been its core.

Sitting down at the dead professor's desk, Harry flipped through the staggering amount of correspondence laying about, absorbing his writing style and penmanship for several minutes before taking up a piece of parchment and quill.

With a deep breath, the shadowrunner began to write the professor's formal request for a leave of absence. Afterwards, he would break into the author's chambers, pack his things and make it look like he had left in a hurry.

**~ooOoo~**

Harry hadn't expected the law to get involved, as he had expected a cover-up, but he also hadn't known the victim he had inadvertently saved was the niece of the department head of Britain's magic badges.

Within an hour of Hermione reporting the incident to the Hufflepuff Head of House, aurors were crawling all over Hogwarts despite the headmaster's protests, looking for evidence of the crime and interviewing witnesses. Unfortunately for them, the dragon and the shadowrunner had thoroughly sanitized the crime scene of all traces of the incident that had transpired, and the blood oaths made it impossible for Hermione and Luna to disclose anything they considered a secret of the circle, leaving the victim, the dragon and the Hermetic mage as the only ones capable of giving an account of what had happened, and the latter two were not giving anything away for free.

Thus, the boy found himself sitting in an abandoned classroom when he would normally be doing research, face to face with the stern older woman who had introduced herself as Madam Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Mister Potter, please, in your own words, please tell me what happened yesterday afternoon in the offices of Gilderoy Lockhart, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts," she said.

"No," the shadowrunner refused flatly.

"No?" said the experienced investigator, surprised.

"No," the Hermetic mage repeated. "I see no reason to cooperate with you."

"Mister Potter, I am the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said the woman. "I would advise you to cooperate with this investigation."

Harry retrieved Lockhart's little black book from his pocket and tossed it onto the table between himself and his interrogator. "Go ahead and read that," he said. "Then, we can talk some love."

"What is this?" Amelia Bones asked, as she picked up the book.

"That cunt's little black book," growled the shadowrunner.

Silence descended upon the room as the woman opened the handwritten record, her calm demeanor giving way to increasing horror as she turned the pages. When she finally closed the book and put it down on the table, she looked like she was going to be sick.

"If what Miss Lovegood, Miss Granger and my niece have told my subordinates and I is true, then he must have had more than two hundred victims, including more than two dozen here at Hogwarts since August," she said, standing up. "I need to speak with the other names in his book who are here, but I'll be back, so don't go anywhere."

"Where would I go?" the shadowrunner challenged, leaning back in his seat, a book on the history of berserkers already in hand.

**~ooOoo~**

It was well after nightfall when the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement finally returned to continue her interrogation of the boy, looking drained.

"So, what'd you find?" asked the Hermetic mage, as Amelia Bones sat back down across from him at the table.

"None of the alleged victims could remember anything happening to them, but they all have gaps in their memory that could correspond to having the Memory Charm cast on them," said the head auror with a sigh.

"So, you have nothing," said the shadowrunner.

"We have my niece's memory, which can be viewed in a Pensieve," Amelia Bones argued.

"Can a Pensieve tell the difference between a memory, a fantasy, a hallucination or a delusion?"

A brief pause followed.

"No," admitted the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"And, did you know memories are altered ever-so-slightly every time people access them for the purpose of remembering them?," asked the boy, and the woman shook her head in the negatory. "With this in mind, wouldn't you agree the memory, even if viewed in the Pensieve, would be something a good defense attorney could tear apart in minutes?"

"Yes," said Madam Bones begrudgingly, giving the boy a look one would normally reserve for a worthy opponent.

"So, like I said before, you've got nothing," the shadowrunner reiterated, and the head auror's shoulders slumped.

Across the table, Amelia Bones sighed.

"Off the record, I can appreciate what you did to Lockhart," she said.

"Allegedly did," the shadowrunner corrected.

"Allegedly did," Madam Bones agreed. "Even though I don't approve of it, if it weren't for you and your friends, we likely would never have found out about what he was doing, and even if we did, with the Memory Charms, it would have made prosecution difficult, if not impossible."

"So, like I said, let's talk some love," said the boy.

"Excuse me?"

"I allegedly assisted you in uncovering a series of crimes you knew nothing about, and allegedly brought to justice a sexual predator you would have had inordinate difficulty convicting in court," said the shadowrunner. "I do believe that deserves a bit of reciprocation."

"Mister Potter, what exactly are you asking for?" asked the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Miss Luna Lovegood was recently orphaned when her father died under mysterious circumstances while in the custody of the Metropolitan Police," said the Hermetic mage. "I imagine there must be interest from various parties who wish to take her into their care."

"I don't know much about the politics of it, but because Miss Lovegood is not from a pure-blood family, none of the Sacred Twenty-Eight have expressed any interest in her," said Madam Bones. "Since she has no living relatives or godparents, she'll likely end up in the care of one of the minor families, some of whom seem almost too eager to take her in, and not for the right reasons."

"What would I need to do, if I wished to adopt her?" asked the Hermetic mage.

"What is your interest in Miss Lovegood?" asked the head auror, her eyes narrowing.

"Luna is my daughter's best friend; I'd hate for anything bad to happen to her."

"And _you_ have no ulterior motives?"

"If I told you, they wouldn't be ulterior now, would they?"

"I suppose not. I could have the paperwork started for you if that's what you want, but raising one daughter by yourself, at your age, must already be difficult enough."

"I'll handle it. I'll also need a copy of her birth record."

"Why?"

"I exist primarily in the normal world, the one you people refer to as 'muggle', and I'd like my daughters to have a presence there as well, so I'll need paperwork that I can get matched to something there."

"Very well; I'll have a copy of Miss Lovegood's vital records owled to you if and when her adoption into the Potter family is completed."

"You may also want to check in with your niece regularly; victims of rape will sometimes have suicidal thoughts following their trauma."

"Are you threatening my niece, Mister Potter?"

"No, I'm genuinely concerned about her; she's an innocent victim in all of this, and there's no reason she should lose her life just because she suffered a loss of innocence."

A moment of silence followed. Then, she sat back in her seat.

"I don't know what to make of you, Mister Potter," she said. "At first, I thought you had been mistakenly sorted into Hufflepuff, because you have the cunning of a Slytherin, but then you demonstrated the knowledge of a Ravenclaw, and now, the caring of a Hufflepuff."

"Labels are meaningless," said the shadowrunner with a shrug. "They only serve to put you in a little box so people can feel more comfortable when they make snap judgements about you. It's why I'm in Hufflepuff, because people like to think of them as harmless."

"I suspect I'll be seeing you quite a lot in the future," said Madam Bones with another sigh.

"I certainly hope not," Harry said. "If it does happen that way, then I would have to have done a lot of things very, very badly."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** And thus dropped the other boot.

This is why this Luna is the way she is. It was never that she was confident, just that she had adapted to be able to go with anything that happened to her, and it's why she's good at going with the flow and improvising; it's also why she's so free with her physical intimacy, because it's become cheapened to her.

Gilderoy Lockhart as a serial sexual predator always felt like the logical conclusion in a cynical world if a famous person who loved the ladies had magical powers that could make people forget things. In fact, it was one of the first points that came up when I originally outlined _Physical Adept_. And like many rich and famous people who do terrible things, Lockhart has found a way to justify to himself that he's doing nothing wrong.

Despite what he might say, Harry does feel rage quite acutely; it's often one of the few emotions that people who cannot really feel emotion in the normal manner is still capable of, like sociopaths or people with an Axis II personality disorder. And this Harry tends to express his rage with extreme violence.

Each person reacts to the situation differently too; Harry is enraged by the perpetrator, Liv follows his lead calmly, Luna is worried about the victim, and Hermione is first concerned with getting answers, then with her ideals of right and wrong.

How do you get away with murder? Destroy all evidence of the crime and then create a plausible alternative scenario.

I've always hated how the Pensieve and legilimency are both somehow considered reliable ways to obtain accurate information, because it completely ignores how human memories actually work; eyewitnesses have been proven to be unreliable time and again, and studies have show human memories literally change a small degree every time they're recalled, which is why things are pretty much always better in your memory, because your memories are lying to you, and can even be created out of thin air through the phenomenon of "recovered memories" (or False Memory Syndrome). Furthermore, let's say somebody is having an experience where, partway through it, they start tripping and start experiencing something different than physical reality because they're in an altered state; how would a Pensieve or legilimency be useful then, or even be able to differentiate between reality and delusion/hallucination of the altered reality wasn't too obvious or ridiculous? In my mind, the Pensieve and legilimency suffer from the original author's lack of understanding on how memory functions, and it suffers for it. It's why in this story, Liv can read who Luna is as a person because it relies on her self-image, which is based on her collective memories, rather than attempting to pick a single memory to watch as though it was a documentary on playback; if Liv had attempted the latter, she would have gotten just as inaccurate information as anybody else attempting it. In short, memories are not a reliable way for gathering information in this version of the universe.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	21. Fallout

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 21: Fallout**

* * *

"You didn't have to kill him, you know?" Hermione complained Monday afternoon after she had found Harry in the abandoned fifth-floor classroom he was putting the finishing touches on his research of _polymorph any object_. "Now I can't ask him about the discrepancies in his books."

"Actually, I kind of had to," Harry said.

"No, you didn't," said the Ravenclaw. "You just wanted to."

"No, _had_ to."

"You'll have to explain it to me, then."

The Hermetic mage pulled a spiral-bound notebook out of his haversack and handed it to the bushy-haired girl, who opened it, read a few lines and looked back at the boy.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A copy of that cunt's little black book I made with _dictation_ before the badges arrived to investigate the incident," Harry said. "You'll see that he's had hundreds of victims, and yet, nobody has ever stepped forward; if you read his personal notes, it includes his experiments on memory magic and how best to erase a victim's memories of an event, meaning, despite his numerous victims, almost none, if any, of them would be able to testify as to what happened.

"Now, while we might have stopped him during one of his attacks, we only have one victim, and the cunt is right famous," the shadowrunner continued. "If history has shown anything, it's that the rich and the famous can get away with just about anything; hell, I definitely should have been charged with murder for what I did to him, but because I sanitized the evidence and created a plausible alternative scenario where he might not be dead, I'm going to get away with it, because I'm famous and people would want to give me the benefit of the doubt."

Hermione considered what the Hermetic mage said for a long moment. "I guess it couldn't be helped, if the alternative was he'd walk away scot-free," she said after a long moment. "I still wish you gave me the chance to ask him about the details in his books, though."

"I suspect it might have something to do with the fact the only magic he seemed able to use was memory magic," Harry said. "Every other time we've seen him try a spell, it's either failed or blown up in his face spectacularly."

"Well, that would explain some things," said the Ravenclaw, before her brow furrowed in thought. "May I borrow his little black book?"

"The copy? Sure," Harry said, and Hermione pocketed the book. "There's actually some really interesting things in his notes about the Memory Charm that you might want to look into."

"That's my plan."

**~ooOoo~**

Rowan Murphy was not qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts; in fact, it had been her worst subject when she attended Hogwarts. Of course, she knew this, and thus, protested vehemently when Albus Dumbledore saddled her with the duty of teaching the subject.

That didn't matter to the headmaster of Hogwarts, though; as far as he was concerned, she was already at Hogwarts and could thus fill in for the departed Lockhart, squeezing in the Flying lessons that was already her responsibility in between the full load of courses she was to take over from the previous Defense professor, regardless of her qualifications for the job.

What accompanied the change in situation was no increase in salary, no more hours in the day, and no budget to spend on the class; aware of her own ineptitude on the subject, Murphy had wanted to bring in guest lecturers to provide the students whose education was now her responsibility with a berth of knowledge beyond her own wholly inadequate one, but whatever Lockhart had done, he had blown through the entire year's budget already, leaving her with no financial resources with which to hire experts, all who would not share their expertise for free.

Left to her own devices, Rowan Murphy did the best she could, but most of her guidance for Defense Against the Dark Arts came down to, "Hit it with something heavy until it stops moving."

It was still the best instruction any Hogwarts students had gotten on the subject from a Defense professor in eighteen months.

**~ooOoo~**

For the three days the aurors remained at Hogwarts, conducting the investigation they would not discuss, Faye followed their activities with interest, devouring every rumor that floated around about them and dissecting it for analysis.

"I think I'd like to be an auror after I graduate," she announced one day without prompting, as she slid another pan of brownies into the convection oven.

"I've been meaning to ask, what exactly is an 'auror'?" Harry inquired. He had read a few things in some of the books he had previously purchased, but he wanted the perspective of somebody who was considering a career in it as well.

"An auror fights against and captures the forces of the Dark Arts," Fay said simply.

"So, a soldier?"

"Well, they also have the authority to arrest those who violate the laws set by the Ministry."

"Combination badge and soldier, then."

"I suppose that's not inaccurate."

"You don't have the skills for that, and you're not going to learn those skills here."

"What are you talking about? To become an auror, you need to get at least five 'Exceeds Expectations' on your N.E.W.T.s."

"You'd need skills in investigation, interrogation, crime scene analysis, interviewing witnesses, combat, data analysis, data mining, observation, conflict resolution, critical thinking, and surveillance, none of which are taught here."

"There's supposed to be a training programme that candidates have to go through before they become full-fledged aurors."

"It'd help to have a leg up when you get accepted, though; if all else fails and you somehow end up unable to become an auror, you'd still be able to apply for and succeed in the Met."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"Got to have a backup plan, in case your plans don't work out."

"Maybe, but where would I learn those skills? It's not like there's a school where I can walk into and take classes on crime scene whatever."

"I know a place you could go to over the summer; you'd need a passport to get there, though."

"I'll owl my mum and ask."

**~ooOoo~**

"This came in the post for you," said Susan Bones, as she sat down next to Harry Potter, a large envelope in her hands. "Luna asked Olivia, and she said I'd find you here."

It had been just over a week since the incident in Lockhart's office, and Harry had seen little of his daughter's best friend, who had been staying with Susan to help her through any difficult times she might have.

"Thank you," said the boy, carefully unwinding the string that held the pouch closed, pulling out a stack of parchment that he read in silence. Once he had been through it twice, he peeled three of the pages from the packet, signed the rest of the leafs and slipped them back into the envelope, tying it close and handing it to the girl still seated next to him, before turning his attention back to his books on the secrets of the Shaolin monks. "If you'd be so kind as to owl it back to your aunt, I'd be grateful."

Susan took the envelope, but remained in the seat next to Harry, fidgeting nervously in her seat.

"I want to have my memories of what happened erased with the Memory Charm," she suddenly blurted out.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked, still reading.

"I told Luna, and she told me you'd tell me why I shouldn't," said the girl.

"Fine," said the boy, closing his book with a sigh. "Why do you want your memories of the incident erased?"

"I-I don't think I'm ready to talk about it," Susan said weakly.

"Look, if you don't tell me why, I can't really help you here."

The girl swallowed, before taking a deep breath, as if to gather her courage. Then, words came tumbling out of her in a rush.

"I feel like I can't get clean, no matter how much I try to wash it all off," Susan began, her anxiety clear in her voice. "And it's so hard to keep my thoughts straight; it's like… sometimes I'm thinking one thing, and then it just disappears for no reason. I'm just scared all the time, and I can barely sleep, and when I do, all I have are nightmares of it happening to me all over again.

"Last night, Hannah and I were just talking, and I just snapped at her, for no reason at all; she didn't do anything wrong, but I was just so angry all of a sudden that I couldn't contain myself and yelled at her, and when I'm not angry, I just feel so helpless and numb, and sometimes, I feel I'm not even in my own body, and other times, my insides won't stop shaking and I don't know why.

"Dumbledore keeps saying there's no way what happened to me could have happened, that Lockhart wouldn't do that kind of thing to a student, and I just keep thinking this is all my fault; if I had been smarter, if I hadn't trusted him, this wouldn't have happened…"

The girl suddenly retched, vomiting all over the floor, spewing chunks of her lunch across the stone and the boy's boots.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to sick all over your shoes."

Harry reached over to stroke the girl's back soothingly, but she jerked away before his hand was even close.

"Don't touch me!" she cried angrily. "I hate you!"

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" Harry asked, frowning.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you like that," Susan apologized tearfully. "I know you're just trying to help, but when I saw you reaching over, I panicked."

"Susan, I'll tell you right now, I am _really_ not equipped to deal with this kind of touchy-feely stuff, but I've been told by a sociologist friend that talking about it helps," said the boy. "What you're feeling right now is probably completely normal; I mean, you were just completely betrayed by somebody who was supposed to look out for you, had your person violated in what must have felt like the most intimate of ways possible, and then an authority figure you thought you could trust is denying it could even have possibly happened. It's _not_ your fault in any way, shape or form; terrible, irrevocable things inevitably find us all, and the best any of us can hope to do is persevere, which, in many cases, is as much of a victory as any of us will get.

"So, you're having a bad time," the shadowrunner continued. "You're thinking about having your memories of the incident erased to make it all better, because you don't want to remember what happened, because it's tearing you up inside. But, you're worried you're making a mistake, so you told Dia, and she suggested you talk to me. Sound about right?"

Susan nodded, and Harry sighed, sitting back in his seat.

"Look, I don't have any comforting words for you; that's not my wheelhouse," he said. "But, let's get into why I think having the Memory Charm used to remove the memories _is_ a bad idea.

"For starters, you do it, he wins."

"Excuse me?" Susan said, clearly taken aback.

"You won't remember a thing, like it never happened, just the way he'd have done it. He might be dead, but you'll still be another one of his little playthings that he got to have his way with and then make forget what he did. He wins."

"I don't want that," Susan said, suddenly furious. "He doesn't get to just win!"

"We're all broken inside," Harry continued. "It's what makes us who we are. Those traumas we carry with us? They drive us to be who we are, push us to do what makes us strong, informs the goals we choose to pursue in life. Without those broken bits, people end up living boring lives, working dead-end jobs, doing the same thing, day in and day out, being one of the living dead. Not to be cavalier, but it's our imperfections that make us interesting, because perfection is just… So_. Damn. Boring_."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Susan shouted angrily. "What do you know about getting hurt like I did?!"

"Well, I don't exactly," said Harry calmly. "But I _was_ abandoned at eighteen months or so with relatives who didn't want me, who called me a worthless freak and took every pleasure in reminding me of it every chance they had to do so, frequently locked me in a cupboard without food or water as punishment for even the smallest things, encouraged their own son to beat me with the help of his friends… so, while I may not understand _exactly_ what you went through, I'd like to think I know a thing or two about drek that fuck people up for life."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," said the Hufflepuff girl softly. "It's just, it really made me so angry, hearing you talk about how imperfections make people interesting, and it's just, it doesn't feel like what happened to me is an imperfection!"

"You're right, I was being insensitive, and I apologize for that," Harry said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face. "I'm not good at thinking about how other people feel.

"Look, I can't really help you with the fear, the shame, the insomnia, the nightmares, the disorganized thoughts, the mood swings, the general anger, the fear of being touched, or even the panic attacks that you're probably going to start having pretty soon if they haven't started already, beyond offering you a sympathetic ear," continued the boy. "For the feelings of powerlessness, though, if you can wake up early enough in the morning, you're free to join Liv, Luna and myself in our daily morning workout, which includes hand-to-hand combat training that you can use for self-defense. It won't make you better right away, but I imagine, if you put in time and effort and start seeing results, you'll regain a sense of control, along with some self-confidence."

"I'll do it!" Susan said, without even hesitating.

"All right, then," Harry said, as he began gathering his things. "I'll see you tomorrow morning in the common room, zero six hundred sharp."

"Zero six hundred?"

"Six in the bloody morning."

**~ooOoo~**

"Again!"

Luna slowly approached Susan, circling slightly to her right as she looked for an opening in the second-year girl's defenses.

True to her word, the niece of Amelia Bones had been in the Hufflepuff common room the very next morning to join the trio of early risers in their daily exercise regimen. Despite only showing moderate discomfort with following in the warm up exercises, the morning run proved difficult for the newcomer, and Luna had chosen to run with her to keep her from becoming discouraged when the Hermetic mage and the dragon went on ahead; still, by the time she was done running the mile, Susan was exhausted, promptly falling over and laying on her back as she tried to catch her breath.

Once her ragged breathing had settled, Harry started her on self-defense training, setting Luna on Susan with only the instruction of not hurting her too badly; when the second-year girl had protested, he briefly explained the ideas of covering up and sprawling, then set the first-year loose to do what she would.

The results were predictable; with just under four months of daily hand-to-hand combat training under her belt, Luna easily dominated the exchanges with the beginner, taking her to the ground at will and battering her when she managed to protect herself from her attacker's blows. Nonetheless, every time the Hermetic mage stopped the blonde, the second-year girl would be back up on her feet within seconds, saying the same thing every time:

"Again!"

Suddenly, Luna dove inside, rolling onto her back as she entangled Susan's left leg with both of her own; grasping the older girl's calf with one hand, she pressed the heel of her other into the back of her knee and pushed, forcing the older girl off balance and allowing the first-year Hufflepuff girl to roll over, dragging her elder to the ground as she applied significant pressure to Susan's ankle by twisting.

"Stop!" Harry said, and Luna let go of the joint lock, freeing herself from the entanglement and standing back up, brushing the dirt and grass off her shirt and pants.

Slowly, Susan got back to her feet, a look of determination on her face, and said the all-too-familiar words once more.

"Again!"

Luna swayed side-to-side, bobbing as she did so, looking for an opening. Spotting one, she lunged inside the older girl's reach, meaning to seize the other girl around the hips.

In that instant, Susan reacted reflexively, her right leg coming up quickly as she snapped in her knee into the younger girl's face.

There was a crunch of breaking cartilage as Luna's head snapped backwards; the next moment, blonde was on the ground, clutching her face in agony as blood poured forth from under her hands while she rolled around on the grass in pain.

"I'm so sorry!" Susan apologized, the words falling out of her in a hurry as she rushed over to the girl on the ground, meaning to check on her injuries. "I didn't mean to hurt you!"

Instead of responding, Luna suddenly reached up and grabbed Susan by the ankle, kicking her other leg out from under her; in the resulting scramble, the younger girl was able to gain the upper hand, taking the brunette's back and raining punches and elbows onto her until she finally turtled up, covering her head and neck with her hands.

"Enough. Stop. Dia, let Liv take a look at your nose."

With Harry's words, the blonde dismounted the older girl's back, calmly walking over to the olive-skinned dragon, who carefully looked over Luna's nose before resetting it out with a quick yank that drew a yelp from the first-year girl. Then, she waved her hand over the blonde's face before handing her a towel, and by the time Luna was done wiping blood from the lower half of her face, the bleeding had stopped.

Meanwhile, Harry helped Susan to her feet. "Good job timing the knee," he told her, "but a fight isn't over until it's over."

"I just wanted to make sure she wasn't hurt," the second-year girl protested.

"And that gave Dia the chance to sweep you and take your back," the shadowrunner said. "Look, I know it's not the instinct for most people to hurt others, but you need to learn to turn that part of yourself off when you're in a fight; when you show mercy, you're giving the other person a chance to really, _really_ hurt you."

"What should I do instead, then?" Susan asked.

"You heard of the saying, 'kick somebody while they're down'?" Harry asked, and the girl he was instructing nodded in the affirmative. "Do that."

"But isn't that not fair?" asked the second-year girl.

"Frag fair," said the Hermetic mage. "When you're in a fight, your goal should be to hurt the other people so much they can't or won't fight anymore."

"That seems… brutal," Susan said, frowning.

"A fight's not a walk in the park," Harry said with a shrug, before turning to the blonde. "You good? Nose stop bleeding?"

"I'm good," Luna said, gingerly touching her nose again but still smiling.

"This is why you shouldn't just shoot from that far out," said the boy. "You get timed going in and you're going to get clipped; somebody with more experience and power will put you down."

"What should I do, then?" asked the blonde.

"Before you want to go for a takedown, you should mix it up with strikes as you close in, to get them thinking about having to cover up, then change levels," Harry said, demonstrating with a quick flurry of punches that barely missed the girl's face, making her flinch, before suddenly ducking down and sliding forward, seizing Luna around the waist and hoisting her up off the ground, carrying her several feet backwards before setting her back down. "See?"

"Got it," Luna said.

"All right," said the shadowrunner. "Show me."

Wordlessly, the blonde stepped back, sizing up the casually-standing Hermetic mage.

"What if I don't want to hurt the person I'm fighting?" Susan interrupted.

Seizing on the boy's momentary distraction, the first-year girl pounced, quickly throwing a snapped jab that tapped him flush on the chin, then immediately dashed forward, wrapping both arms around one of his legs.

"Good," Harry said to Luna, and she broke her hold with a wide grin. Turning to the older girl, the shadowrunner said, "There's a couple blood chokes you could use, but you're not at a level where you can safely learn and practice it yet, since holding onto one too long can cause brain damage, and that's definitely hurting them."

"Oh," Susan said, disappointed. "Will you teach me when I can safely use them?"

"If you're still training with us, of course."

**~ooOoo~**

Harry was used to waking up with Luna draped across and wrapped around him in a fairly wide variety of ways, but she had always reserved her physical affection for Liv, so he was caught off-guard when she returned to their shared room on Thursday after going to breakfast with the dragon, an envelope in hand, to give him a great big hug.

"What's this about?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably as the blonde rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"Her Ministry paperwork came in," Liv said, grinning widely. "Her adoption went through; we're sisters now."

"I know, I shouldn't have opened it since it was addressed to you, but I couldn't help myself," Luna said, looking up at Harry with a bright smile. "Susan asked me to give this to you, but I just had to know why Madam Bones was owling you again.

"Should I change my name to Luna Potter?" she asked.

"You should call yourself whatever makes you happy," Harry said. "It doesn't matter if you're Luna Lovegood, Luna Potter, or if you change name into some symbol nobody can pronounce, like Prince; you're still you, and nothing's going to change that.

"I mean, I constantly tell people to call me 'Whiplash', but, end of the day, I'm still Harry Potter."

"Harrison Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix Gideon Jacoby Tolliver Everest Maker-of-Pots," corrected Luna, ticking off each name on a finger. "Are you sure it's not Potts-Smith, though? Maker-of-Pots is a bit of a mouthful."

"You're right, it _is_ Potts-Smith," Harry agreed. "I don't know how I could have ever made that mistake.

"But the point stands; it doesn't matter what you call yourself, or even what other people call you, as long as you like yourself, that's all that really matters."

"I think I'll keep 'Lovegood'," Luna said, handing the envelope to her adoptive father. "It's part of who I am, part of what makes me, well, me."

"All right, I'll make sure your paperwork in the normal world reflects that," Harry said, opening the envelope to find two copies of Luna's papers as well as a handwritten letter, which he read over quickly. "Awfully thoughtful of her to send two copies of your official St. Mungo's birth records."

"What should I call you? 'Daddy'?"

"Yeah, please don't call me that, considering what the last person you called 'daddy' did to you," said Harry quickly. "You can keep calling me what you've been calling me."

"Okay, Tolliver.

"You know I'm adopting you and Liv and not the other way around, though, right?" continued the blonde.

"All right, then, 'mum', where are we going to live, and how are we going to pay for everything?"

"I take that back, Everest. You can adopt me if it means you take care of all the boring stuff."

"Fraggin' ankle-biters."

"Hey! You're only a year older than me!"

**~ooOoo~**

When word of Lockhart's ostensible departure from Hogwarts and the circumstances surrounding it did not make the news by Friday morning, the self-styled shadowrunner decided something was not on the up-and-up—given the rather few subjects _The Daily Prophet_ regularly featured included the going ons at Hogwarts—so he felt it safe to say that what had happened was being covered up when there was silence on the subject for nearly a week.

It wasn't that he particularly cared that a cover-up was happening; he had expected one in the first place, so that was par for the course, but it was who the cover-up involved and was about that motivated him to do something about it, because the fact the serial rapist's departure didn't even make the news reeked of something the conspiracy would strive to have happen to maintain a semblance of stability.

He would always take the opportunity to undermine the conspiracy.

So, he wrote a letter addressed to Rita Skeeter and asked Colin to post it for him through a communal owl to keep suspicion away from himself.

He received a reply back from the journo the next day, telling him she was happy to meet him on Hogwarts grounds as soon as possible, and immediately wrote back, setting up a meet for the next day, though he did find it suspicious that she had been oddly specific about choosing a place with access to the outdoors, so he had chosen an abandoned classroom with windows that opened.

As always, the shadowrunner arrived ahead of schedule to the meeting place Sunday morning, settling into a chair with a book on the history of berserkers, continuing his reading and research on becoming a physical adept. Only when he heard the sound of an insect buzzing through the window did he look up from his book, just in time to see a beetle shift into the form of Rita Skeeter.

"The weather sure is nice today," the boy said, hand resting lightly on the weapon in his pocket.

"It'd be better if it wasn't snowing," answered the journo, despite the clear weather.

With the correct authentication phrase, the woman confirmed her identity, and the shadowrunner visibly relaxed.

"You have something for me?" Rita asked.

"I need you to write a hit piece," Harry said.

"Who's the subject?" inquired the journo.

"Gilderoy Lockhart."

At the mention of the name, the reporter's entire face lit up. "My editor's favorite kind of target," she said.

"Yeah? What kind's that?"

"Famous and well-respected."

"Then they're going to love this."

"Is he?"

"A few ground rules first: I know this may be hard for you, with the way you often editorialize venomously in your pieces, but there's a girl I want you to talk to, and I want you to be gentle with her during the interview and sensitive about her when writing the piece."

"Why?"

"He had his way with her, against her will. One of many, too, though she's the only one who remembers what happened to her."

"Wait, you're telling me Gilderoy Lockhart is a rapist? Do you have any proof to back up that allegation?"

The shadowrunner reached into his pocket, taking out a spiral notebook. "A complete, unedited copy of his little black book of conquests that I made before the badges took it into evidence; it includes his notes on how to best use the Memory Charm to erase a victim's ability to recall an incident. If you have sources with the badges, you can check the veracity of it."

The woman took the notebook, flipping through it quickly before pocketing it. "What else?"

"There's another girl you'll be talking to; she has a very long and detailed list of discrepancies in Lockhart's books, and she's more than happy to discuss all of them with you. You don't need to be gentle with her, but I'd like you to credit her in the article, since I believe her research will prove critical."

"I can live with that," Rita agreed. "Do you want to discuss the narrative for the piece now?"

"Let's do it after the interviews," Harry said, taking out his two-way radio, bringing it to his lips.

*_beep_*

"Rook? Whip. Tell Dia we're ready for her. Over."

**~ooOoo~**

The two interviews combined took just over five hours; as it cut into when the gaming club would normally start, Harry asked Liv to handle the hosting duties, a task he thought she might be ready for with the socialization she had experienced in the previous seven-and-a-half months.

Susan's interview with Rita had been first, and Luna sat with her during it for moral support; when it was completed, the Hermetic mage's newer daughter walked the older girl back to the dormitories, and he brought in his best friend for the second interview, which, even from outside the room, he could hear degenerate into a lively argument.

Only after both interviews were concluded did shadowrunner reconvene with the journo.

"You weren't kidding about this," said the woman, as she flipped through the notebook, taking notes of her own. "From what Miss Bones told me, I can tell she had an extremely harrowing experience, and I can see why you want me to be gentle with her; she's a victim in this, and there's no need to drag her name through the mud, so I'm going to leave her name out of it in the piece."

"Good," said the shadowrunner.

"Miss Granger was most helpful, and I'm going to ask my editor to give her a coauthor credit," Rita continued. "Her research makes me think Lockhart's books, which he claims to be autobiographical memoirs, are almost entirely fabricated; I'm going to try to substantiate the various incidences he supposedly resolved, but I'm willing to bet they're either all made up, or he's taking credit for the work of somebody else after he erased their memories.

"Speaking of Lockhart, where is he? Why won't anybody answer me when I ask about that? And why are you coming to me with this, and not Dumbledore?"

"Lockhart's ostensibly taking a leave of absence."

"Ostensibly?"

"I can't really say more than that."

"What about Dumbledore?"

"I haven't told anybody this, but last year, he hid the Philosopher's Stone in the school, then hired Quirnirus Quirrell, who was possessed by You-Know-Who, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts to try to bait him into the open."

"How do you know this?"

"I'm going to need you to make a blood oath to keep my secrets, if you want this conversation to continue going forward."

"All right," the journo said, extending a hand. "You're a source; I'd always protect my sources even without an oath."

The shadowrunner cut the woman's hand, then his own, and the two exchanged blood again.

"I swear I'll keep your secrets," swore the reporter.

With the oath sworn, Harry cast _Heal Wounds_, much to the reporter's surprise.

"Rumors were you couldn't use magic," Rita said, frowning.

"I know," said the Hermetic mage. "I encouraged those rumors."

"Why?" asked the woman.

"I need to keep my strengths secret, so I have the element of surprise against my enemies."

"What about me?" the reporter asked.

"Not everybody needs to know everything," the boy said with a shrug. "It's called 'compartmentalization'."

"So, how do you know about the Philosopher's Stone, and Quirrell being possessed by You-Know-Who?" inquired the journo.

"I have the Philosopher's Stone, or at least a portion of it, since it was split as part of the payout on the heist."

"A payout on the heist? Who were you working with?"

"I can't say."

"Why not?" Rita demanded.

"Just like you protect your sources, I don't snitch on the people I work with."

"That's fair, I suppose. How about You-Know-Who possessing Quirrell?"

"He was there, so I dealt with him."

The woman frowned. "Did you 'deal with' Lockhart too?"

"Something like that. Officially, he's taken a leave of absence to reconsider his career."

"And unofficially?"

"He's been... retired."

"Retired? As in, no longer teaching or writing?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"You're still compartmentalizing, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"So, according to you, you've defeated You-Know-Who twice so far, then?"

"Don't know that I've defeated him either time, since this time around, when Quirrell left us, You-Know-Who floated away in a mist cloud with an angry face, and the first time, I was just a toddler, there were no witnesses, nobody found a body, and he's very clearly not gone."

"You think he's back, then?"

"Yes."

"People need to know about this."

"No, they don't," the shadowrunner disagreed sharply. "People are stupid and easily scared; you release that information to the public and there'll be a major panic. Not only that, but I expect there'd be political fallout too, especially from the spolitico who have built their careers on the idea that You-Know-Who's gone away forever and it's now a time of peace."

"But if You-Know-Who wasn't defeated, people need to prepare for his return!" protested the journo.

"I _am_ preparing for his return," the Hermetic mage countered.

"I don't understand," the reporter said, confused.

"I'm recruiting assets, amassing capital, stockpiling arms, gathering intelligence, and training myself and my allies for what's to come," said the boy. "If I can have it my way, this will be a covert war, fought without civilians ever knowing it happened; however, I know that's unlikely to be the case, but until there's a declaration of war, causing a panic's only going to make it harder for me to do what _I_ have to do."

"Why a secret war?" inquired the journo.

"According to the Ministry, there's about fifty thousand magical individuals in all of the United Kingdom," said the boy. "According to the Home Office, there are more than six million normal people, the ones you magicals like to call 'muggles', in London alone, and more than fifty-seven million in all the U.K. If there's open war, it's going to spill out into the normal world, and then everything is going to get blown. Especially the Statute of Secrecy."

"It wasn't during the last war."

"This is going to be the second war he's waging; at this point, I'm worried he won't try to be subtle and just go with overwhelming power from the jump to crush his enemies quickly. That means it'll get messy, so whoever is fighting him needs to cut him off at the knees before it jumps off."

"And you're going to do that?"

"I'm damn well going to try."

It was followed by a pregnant pause.

"If you're really doing this, I'd like to help," offered the journo.

"Why?," asked the shadowrunner. "I thought you were all about the headline."

"What, did you think you were the only person who suffered loss during the war?" Rita asked. "My mother and father were killed in the crossfire; like most people, they didn't pick a side, but in a war, that doesn't really matter. One minute, they were minding the bookstore on Knockturn, and I had stepped out to go meet with a few publishers about restocking our inventory; the next, it's just a smoking crater in the ground and they were gone.

"If you think you can stop more innocent people from dying, or even just reduce the chances, let me help however I can."

"I'd be happy to have you," Harry said. "Honestly, I don't remember my parents at all, so I didn't really lose anybody during the war; it always feels strange when people just assume I miss them, because I don't have any recollection of ever knowing them."

"Do people assume that often?"

"If I don't cover my face when I'm in Diagon, random people will come up to me and offer their condolences or just thank me. It's weird and creepy when it happens, like they think it's okay for some reason to accost a stranger in broad daylight, even though they don't know me.

"It's actually gotten worse since the articles, and I didn't think that was possible."

"That's the price of being famous."

"I never asked for it."

"Sometimes, fame just happens to people, whether they want it or not. Besides, you were the one who wanted to print a series of articles in the _Prophet_."

"You know, you're a lot wiser when you're not writing lies about people. How did you get into that business anyways?"

"After the bookstore burned down, I was left with nothing; I had never gotten the best marks at Hogwarts, and I had always thought I'd spend the rest of my life working at the family business, so I had never really thought I'd ever need to find another job. I just wasn't prepared for working for somebody other than family; all I really had was a few contacts with publishers, but since I didn't have a shop for them to sell to, so they weren't really interested in me. I didn't have any other employable skills, but I did know what could sell, so I spent just under a year writing a _clearly_ fictional biography of Armando Dippet, but the publisher I sent it to released it under nonfiction for some reason. After that, my reputation was sealed; when the _Prophet_ hired me, those were the kind of pieces the editor wanted me to write; any time I suggested writing any sort of well-researched piece that could be taken seriously, my editor would shoot it down.

"It's why I use Quick-Quote Quills when I do most of my interviews; that way, even when fabrications and exaggerations are published under my name, I can take solace in knowing those weren't the words I wanted to write, just the words that will sell papers."

"So, when I called you a sensationalist and a fabulist…," the Hermetic mage asked.

"You were technically correct, even if factually inaccurate," Rita answered. "Yes, those pieces were published under my name, but they were mostly written with Quick-Quote Quills, and then curated and edited for specifically maximum sensationalism, because that's what will sell the most copies of the _Prophet_. If I had my way, I'd be an investigative reporter, instead of a professional libelist."

"In that case, I'm sorry I called you those things," Harry apologized.

"It's all right, you didn't know, and I've been called worse."

"What about that demeanor?"

"It's what people expect from me. I mean, everyone thinks I'm a heartless, greedy maggot, so that's what I give them."

Another pause followed.

"So, how'd you convince your editor to let you write about me, then?" asked the boy, curious.

"Are you kidding? Don't you know?" asked the reporter. "There've been more books written about you in the last decade than any other single topic. Printing anything about you is guaranteed sales, even if what's written is completely fabricated.

"Speaking of which, after you went on record saying the books written and published about you were done without your permission, publishers have been reaching out to the _Prophet_, saying they want to make things right."

"In that case, tell them they can send five percent of all past and future earnings made on anything that uses my name and likeness to my vault at Gringotts, and another five percent to War Child."

"War Child?"

"It's a charity that provides assistance to children in areas of conflict."

"And if they decline?"

"You're free to publish my terms publicly and demonize those who refuse. I mean, if they refuse to donate to charity, it shouldn't be too hard to make them look really, _really_ bad for it."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"The advert I ran in the _Prophet_ for Wizarding Goods was a test; I wanted to see how people would respond to my word, and the store went from almost going out of business to suddenly being hugely profitable, to a point where its owner needed to hire additional staff to keep up, and expand her product selection and double her inventory. It's also indirectly brought foot traffic back to Knockturn, where I've also gotten silent partnership deals with several other businesses.

"If that's the effect of my endorsing a single shop, can you imagine what I could do if I personally condemned a writer or a publisher?"

"You could ruin them."

"Exactly."

"Why would you want to do that? I did some digging after we met that first time, and, as far as anybody can tell, you're ridiculously wealthy from inheriting the Potter fortune."

"If I am, I'll have to look into it, because I don't have access to it right now, and like I've said before, I'm getting ready to fight a covert war, and wars are expensive affairs, especially if you want to come out of it the winner."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **To quote "Bait", season 2, episode 10 of _The Unit_, "People say there's one law for the rich and one law for the poor, but that's not actually true... There's no law for the rich." It's a very cyberpunk sentiment.

Rowan Murphy ending up teaching Defense is a tribute to every phys ed teacher who ended up having to substitute for another subject when that teacher were out sick. She might also be the first good teacher to be hired at Hogwarts since the start of Harry's education there, even if she ends up way out of her depth.

I felt like, in the original, Faye's decision to become an auror in book 5 kind of came out of nowhere, but then again, she was never a major character in the original either. Here, I wanted there to be a reason why she wanted to become one, and I thought her observing the investigation would be a great place for her to start. Of course, her unfortunate association with Harry can only mean one thing: she's going to be a dirty cop if she ever becomes one.

Harry is really not good with talking about feelings and stuff, but you kind of get the jist of what he's selling to Susan through their conversation. It was an incredibly difficult section to write, because I didn't want Harry to come off as mansplaining, but still wanted him to be able to connect to Susan as a victim and survivor, all while pushing his own agenda.

The part about broken people is more of me voicing my opinion; everybody interesting in this series is or will end up broken or traumatized in one way or another, and it'll inform who they become. Harry is paranoid and unable to stop working on things in preparation of what's to come, Hermione slowly slides into consequentialism, Luna is a passenger in her own life, and Neville is a ball of useless nervousness without self-medicating.

One of the things I always enjoyed about _Classic World of Darkness_—besides the gothic punk aesthetic—was the use of Demeanor and Nature; who you are on the inside isn't always who you show the world, and this version of Rita Skeeter is a prime example of this. It doesn't redeem her for what she's done, but it makes the character more complex, rather than a one-dimensional yellow journalist. Like Harry, she knows how to play a part, and she wears her mask with a heavy heart.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	22. Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 22: Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice**

* * *

Luna Lovegood, or Dia Potter, as she sometimes liked to think of herself, woke gently, warm and cozy in the fluffy bed she shared with Gideon and Liv. Her life at Hogwarts since the Christmas holiday had been like a wonderful dream, a return to a time when her family was whole, before mummy passed and daddy became awful.

Yawning and languidly stretching like a cat as she shrugged off the covers, she sat up and looked around; neither her new dad or sister could be seen, but she could smell the food being cooked, and immediately glanced over towards the side of the room to see the magical trunk containing Harry's commercial kitchen sat with its lid was open, light pouring out of it into the otherwise darkened bedroom.

Clearly, Harrison and Liv were preparing breakfast, so it'd be ready for when they got back from their daily morning exercise regimen, and from the delicious smell wafting through the air, it was a combination of _miso shiru_, _yakizakana_ and rice.

Climbing off the mattress, she stretched both arms towards the ceiling, then pulled on a pair of knickers, a T-shirt she had stolen from Wolfgang, and some shorts, before slipping into a pair of rainbow ankle socks. Stripping the bedding from where she and her family slept, she carried them over to the washing machine Harry had plugged into the petrol generator and customized with a variety of runes, precious metals and gemstones, stuffing the sheets, blankets, pillows and pillowcases into the opening before pouring in laundry detergent, dropping the lid and turning on the machine just like Phoenix had shown her.

Along with dusting and vacuuming, laundry was her chore; with the room warded by glyphs and runes etched into the walls and covered with posters and wallpaper, no visitor could intrude upon the room without permission, meaning the family of three had to clean their own living arrangements, and those were the chores that fell to Luna.

Going to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, Luna saw that it had been freshly cleaned, one of her sister's chores, and momentarily wondered where she found time to do it in between classes, homework, video games, working out, snuggling, practicing her skills, reading, pillow fights, cooking, and playing around with magic.

Ambling out of the bathroom, she saw Amadeus and Liv had finished making breakfast and were waiting for her.

"Good morning," Luna said brightly, a cheerful smile on her lips as she crossed over to her sister and gave her a big hug.

"Mornin' Lulu," said the dragon-in-girl's-form, calling her sister by the nickname only she used before kissing her affectionately on the forehead. "Sleep well?"

"Like a baby, Leelee," said the blonde, using her own term of endearment for the dragon.

"You do know babies sleep like drek, right?" Tolliver said, as he handed her a freshly-made burrito wrapped in foil.

"What?" Luna asked, confused, even as she bit into her pre-workout snack.

"Babies are notoriously horrible sleepers," the boy explained. "They wake up repeatedly, shit and piss themselves, and need to be fed several times. If you slept like a baby, you barely got any at all; it's why new parents are so often just exhausted all the time."

"I didn't know that," Luna admitted, swallowing her food. "I slept like the dead?"

"That works, I suppose," said Jacoby. "Though I do feel I should point out that the dead usually don't wake back up. Unless they're undead, like Pace was. Is. Was.

"So, you ready, Dia?"

"Always!"

"That's my girl."

**~ooOoo~**

Susan Bones awoke with a start and a sharp gasp, jerking upright as a fit of violent coughing overtook her, shaking her entire frame.

Already, the fragments of the nightmare were beginning to fade from her memories, but her pajamas were still soaked in cold sweat, and she could feel the tightness in her throat, like she had been strangled.

"_Horologium_," the brunette whispered, one hand on her wand as she cast the time-telling charm taught to all first-year students, not wanting to wake her sleeping roommate where she laid across the room, her breathing deep and rhythmic as her chest rose and fell under the covers.

In the corner of her eye, a clock appeared at the tip of her wand; it took her sleep-deprived mind a moment to comprehend its hands, but she realized it was almost five-thirty.

She only had thirty minutes to get ready for her daily morning self-defense course with Harry, Liv and Luna.

In a hurry, she scurried out of her bed and into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, she stepped in and immediately yelped as the cold water hit her skin, waking her completely in a split instant.

It took a minute, but soon, the water was piping hot, and she began to scrub herself vigorously with a bar of soap; even after almost two months after what had happened, she still felt like she couldn't get clean, no matter how much she scrubbed herself raw.

Climbing out of the shower, she toweled herself dry, then dressed herself in attire appropriate for her self-defense lessons, before opening a box of vanilla cupcakes she had bought from Faye Dunbar, one of the people who always seemed to cross paths with Harry Potter.

Peeling back the paper liner, she bit into the cake. It was a snack for before the workout, because breakfast was not served in the Great Hall before eight.

**~ooOoo~**

Hermione Granger groaned softly as her clock alarm dragged her back into the land of consciousness. It felt like she had barely just gone to bed, and already the alarm had interrupted her sleep.

"Turn it off," groaned Su-Jin from across the room, and the bushy-haired Ravenclaw felt a thrown pillow strike her bed, bouncing off her covers and landing on the floor.

Groggily, she reached over and pushed the button on the clock, silencing the klaxon call.

Peering over at the red on black numbers, it took a moment for her bleary eyes to comprehend the digits and their meanings. Then, she sat bolt upright.

It was already five-fifty-three, which meant Harry would have already been up nearly an hour, and Hermione could ill afford to let him get any further ahead.

It was time to start revising again; the Easter holiday was already upon them, which meant the end-of-term exams were only a little more than a month away, and she still couldn't shake the feeling her best friend was still outworking her.

**~ooOoo~**

Fay Dunbar bit into a brownie she had baked the previous afternoon, part of a batch she had made without any cannabis included, a special request from a fifth-year Hufflepuff who had wanted the fudgy treats for a tea party, but didn't want the little special something that usually came baked in the chocolate brownies she and Neville sold.

Looking out her bedroom window, she could see the rain beating against the outer wall of Gryffindor Tower, the sky a drab grey that made the day seem gloomy. Checking her notes on sale patterns she had started to collect on her own initiative, Fay reminded herself that, on days such as these, students would want something hot and warm, which meant she could once again take advantage of one of the recipes she had found in Harry's book of recipes, something his friend Tori had called a "pumpkin pie spice mix", a mixture of powdered cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and cloves, all things Harry had stocked away in his pantry.

While hot chocolate could certainly be had in the Great Hall, only she and Neville supplied Hogwarts with a pumpkin spiced variety, a very popular drink among the students on days such as these; the first time she had tried it, she had to admit it was very much like a hot, chocolate and pumpkin flavored milkshake she could drink in the middle of the day, and it too had become one of her favorite beverages to have on a cold day.

*beep*

"Whiplash, Wildfire. Pilgrim and I are going to need to pick up the kitchen earlier today, maybe around seven, over."

There was a pause as Fay awaited a response. Then,

*beep*

"Wild? Whip. Call me again at oh-seven-thirty with the room number you're in, and I'll bring the kitchen, over."

*beep*

"Wilco. Out."

With classes out of session for the week, students were likely to sleep in, which meant the breakfast rush would be less a deluge and more a slow and steady flow, as those attending Hogwarts filtered in and out of the Great Hall as they pleased without the pressure of being in class on time.

It was going to be a busy morning.

**~ooOoo~**

Susan slapped away one of Luna's reaching hands with one of her own, fully aware the younger girl was trying to create an opening with which she could be taken to the ground, the part of self-defense where she was still the weakest.

Slipping to the left as the first-year pawed a lazy jab at her head, she immediately dug two, quick hooking punches into the younger girl's side, drawing grunts of pain as knuckles found flesh and forcing her sparring partner to retreat.

Spurred on by her opponent being forced back because of the body blows she landed, Susan surged forward with a flurry of wild, looping punches, winging them with bad intentions as she threw them with full force, landing fists on forearms, biceps and shoulders as Luna covered up to protect herself.

Suddenly, the younger girl dropped out of her eyeline, and Susan immediately realized she was in trouble even before she felt the impact of a shoulder being driven into her stomach, her legs being pulled out from under her as the blonde tackled her to the floor of the classroom they were using for the training due to the pouring rain outside.

As her back hit the hard stone, Susan felt the shock of the impact jar her spine and growled in pain, but she hooked her legs around Luna's back, preventing her from standing up or moving away, then grabbed her by the front of her shirt, swinging an elbow upwards at the blonde's face and forcing her to lean backwards to avoid the blow.

That was the opening she needed; unhooking one leg from around Luna's back, Susan quickly drew it in and slipped her heel up against the younger girl's hip, forcefully shoving her off with a swift kick, then scrambled back to her feet, bringing her hands up in a defensive stance, a faint smile forming on her lips as she began to stalk towards the smaller girl.

Hitting things always made her feel better, and she could do that now she was off of her back.

**~ooOoo~**

Myla Bletchley checked her watch. It read "7:14 AM".

One of the few benefits of being the only half-blood in Slytherin was no girl wanted to room with her, which gave her the benefit of having an entire room to herself, and though she absolutely hated the green motif and the fact it was located in the dungeons, she had to admit that having her own room had its advantages, like there being no roommate to know when she was getting up, nor any to tattle about her use of muggle items, like her watch.

Thus, nobody in Slytherin knew just how much work it had taken her to become the best Keeper the house had seen in more than two decades. Then again, when practically the entire house coasted on their "natural" talents, willingness to bend the rules (if not outright break them), familial connections and ability to blame others for their own errors, she understood why they couldn't imagine hard work being involved in anything in their lives.

She, however, did not have their familial connections, and her mother had taught her to take responsibilities for her own failures, while her father, who had pulled himself up by his bootstraps to become a successful furniture maker, combining his love for sculpture with a practical and financially viable outlet for his creativity, had shown her the importance of a good work ethic and being a self-starter.

Myla didn't even like Quidditch, but she had thought during her second year in Slytherin that maybe, if she was good enough to become a regular member of the team, her housemates might deem her worthy enough to speak to.

She had been wrong, of course; outside of the Quidditch team during practice and games, they continued to ignore her when they weren't whispering about her behind her back, even when she was in their presence and could hear them talking, and it had made her miserable. But once she was a regular, if she ever stopped being one, her existence in Slytherin would be even more agonizing.

In fact, nobody at Hogwarts except for the staff had ever really talked to her until just this December past, and she had been exceptionally surprised when that first person had been Harry Potter, of all people.

But not nearly as surprised as when she felt the hand on her shoulder as she came out of the Slytherin Dungeon.

Spinning, she exhaled in relief when she recognized the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Hiding in the dark and ambushing a witch is a good way to get hexed, Potter," she said.

"I could always just break your wrist," the Hufflepuff retorted almost too casually.

"What do you want? I need to practice."

"Come with me. It'll only take a minute or two."

"Why?"

"It's a surprise."

"I don't like the sound of that."

Myla followed the Hufflepuff up a flight of stairs and down a hall, then stopped when he pushed open the door to a girls' bathroom and started to let himself inside.

"This better not be what I think it is."

"I'm not trying to shag you."

"Why do I feel like I should feel insulted?"

"Are you coming in or not?"

The Slytherin followed the Hufflepuff into the restroom, then froze as he pushed his cane up against the door and it stayed in place when he let go of it, floating in mid-air.

"Potter…"

"Give me a second," said the boy, holding up a finger as he dug around in his haversack; after a moment, he pulled out a crumpled ball of cloth and tossed it across the room. "Here you go."

Myla caught the thrown object and disentangled it, revealing a balaclava. "Why?"

"Put it on."

The Slytherin looked at the Hufflepuff like he was insane, but relented, if only to humor him.

"All right, look in the mirror and imagine anybody else's face," said the boy, once Myla had gotten the ski mask over her face.

The girl considered the boy's words as she looked in the mirror; in the moment, she remembered her mother and felt a little bit homesick.

Suddenly, she found the a reflection of her mother's face looking back at her, and she squeaked in surprise, her mind racing for an instant before settling on the face of Sigourney Weaver, one of her favorite stars, particularly in _Alien_ and _Aliens_, which her father had shown her despite her mother's misgivings.

That was the face staring back at her.

"What is this?" she asked, turning to the Hufflepuff, who grimaced.

"Sigourney Weaver is not a good look on you," he said. "You're about a half-foot too short."

"Thanks, but that doesn't answer my question."

"It's, uh, well, a balaclava of disguise," explained the Boy-Who-Lived. "Just think of any face, even if it's imaginary, and that's the face the mask will project."

"But why?"

"Remember when I said we could be friends when nobody else was around to notice? This would let us be friends even if people were around, as long as they don't realize it's you."

"Where did you even get this?"

"Made it myself."

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"There isn't a student here at Hogwarts who could make something this advanced."

"Fine. I got it from Wizarding Supplies."

"They sell this there?"

"No, but you don't believe me when I tell you I made it."

"Come on, Potter, if you could make this, you wouldn't be failing Charms or Transfiguration."

The Boy-Who-Lived shrugged. "Next time, if you're going to use a star, you should try Liza Minnelli."

"Who?"

"Liza Minnelli. Actress, was in _Cabaret_ and _Arthur_? She's more your height."

"Uh… thanks?"

"Null sweat, chummer."

Then, he was gone, taking his cane with him.

**~ooOoo~**

"That'll be four sickles," Fay said, and Hermione handed her the coins and the tankard from the previous day, receiving a freshly steaming tankard of pumpkin spiced hot chocolate and a sack of snickerdoodle cookies in exchange.

The drink was just the right temperature, the first sip warming her up from the inside, and she placed the cookies in her handbag, a purchase she had made over Christmas break with allowance money she had saved over the years.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" the bushy-haired girl shouted, as a third-year Asian girl in bronze and blue nearly walked into her, her nose buried in a book.

After nearly falling to her death by walking into an empty stairway, Hermione had finally learned the dangers of walking and reading, but it seemed it was not a lesson many, if not most, of her housemates were particularly familiar with.

Taking another sip of the pumpkin pie-flavored hot chocolate, Hermione was reminded it was time to rendezvous with Harry and get a fresh battery for the two-way radio she carried; having already met Harry earlier in the day to borrow his kitchen, Fay and Neville must have already gotten fully-charged batteries already for their walkie-talkies, so now it was her turn.

Besides, she had acquired some information he would probably find interesting.

*_beep_*

"Whiplash Hunter, this is Danger Wells," Hermione said, all while briskly walking away from the Great Hall. "Where are you and what are you doing? Over."

There was a brief silence. Then, a response.

_*beep_*

"Danger, Whip. Six-fourteen. R&D. Over."

*_beep*_

"Whiplash Hunter, I'm on my way. Out."

It took Hermione a good ten minutes to get to the room Harry had taken up for the afternoon, with several forced detours as stairs moved themselves as she tried to ascend them; when she finally arrived, she cautiously knocked on the door, not wanting to interrupt anything delicate.

"Come in," came Harry's voice through the heavy wood.

Entering the room, Hermione nearly froze when she saw Harry in just his pants, slowly doing what she thought might be _tai chi_ from the few times she had seen some pensioners performing it in the public park near her home. With his athletic build, well-defined muscles and square jaw, Harry looked particularly yummy in the moment as he flowed from one movement to the next.

Suddenly, the memory of Harry admitting to having an erotic dream about her rushed back into her mind unbidden. Biting her lip at the thought of the admission, she realized her knickers had suddenly become moist, blood rushing to her cheeks when she realized she was having sexy thoughts about her best friend, even if boys with tattoos usually weren't her type.

"What're you doing?" she asked.

"Trying to find my _qi_," the Hermetic mage responded.

"That's not real," the Ravenclaw protested.

"You didn't think magic was either until you got a visit from a real-life witch," shrugged the boy.

"Why, though?"

"It'd be nice to have another tool in my box," Harry said, as he finally looked at the girl with bushy brown hair. Nodding towards a desk nearby, he added, "Battery's over there."

Wordlessly, Hermione changed the battery in her radio, then thumbed the button to transmit.

*_beep_*

"Radio check, over."

Nearby, Harry's walkie-talkie beeped.

"Radio check, over," it echoed in her voice.

*_beep_*

"Danger? Rook. I read you five-by-five. Over."

*_beep*_

"Mayhem Rook, it's Danger Wells," Hermione answered. "Thank you. Out."

Silence hung in the air as Hermione tried to surreptitiously watch Harry exercise, wanting to commit to memory the image before her for when she was back in the privacy of her own room. If he could have an erotic dream about her, it was only fair she could do the same and more, she reasoned to herself, even as the very thought made her cheeks flush.

"You all right?" Harry asked. "Catch a cold or something? You look really red."

"I'm fine," said the Ravenclaw, nearly stumbling over her words as her mind tried to find a way to change the subject. "Oh! I almost forgot! I developed a new spell."

"Yeah?" asked the Hermetic mage, suddenly stopping. "Show me."

"Oh, you'll find out," Hermione said, taking a padlock her mum had owled her out of her pocket. "I'm about to cast it."

The Ravenclaw closed her eyes, imagining the pins holding the lock in place being pushed upwards by an invisible force, allowing the cylinder to turn ever-so-slightly as each was pushed out of the way, until it was freed of every pin and turned smoothly.

"_Rego terram_," she whispered.

With a click, the lock popped open, and the girl smiled broadly.

"You're taking too long to cast it," the Hermetic mage criticized. "And closing your eyes to do so gives it right away."

"I'd like to see you do better," Hermione huffed, locking the padlock.

"Sure," Harry said. Without pausing, he said, "_Muto terram_," and the padlock immediately clicked unlocked in the girl's hands.

"What? How?" the Ravenclaw gasped. "And why is your incantation different than before?"

"I rebuilt the spell when I realized I could make the visualization easier," the Hermetic mage explained. "Let me guess, you're imagining in your head all the mechanisms of the lock working the way it normally would if you were unlocking it with a key or lockpicks?"

"Of course," the girl said. It was obvious that was how it had to be done.

"Nowadays, when I cast _knock_, I just use a state change for the lock, from 'locked' to 'unlocked', which is why I now use '_muto_' instead of '_rego_', since I'm straight up changing the lock instead of trying to control it."

"But that's not how things work!" Hermione protested. "They don't just change like that!"

"It clearly _is_," Harry countered. "The fact it works is proof enough."

The Ravenclaw mulled over the revelation for a moment before sighing. "I don't get it."

The Hermetic mage shrugged. "I have every confidence you'll figure it out."

Hermione was not happy with her best friend's disregard towards what she felt was the rules of how the world worked. Things couldn't just change states of being… could they?

Then again, the things Harry did often openly defied common sense. Who else would adopt a dragon for a daughter, or use Rita Skeeter to discredit a famous author?

Still, there was one more order of business to take care of.

"I think I've found the location of the Chamber of Secrets, or at least an entrance to it," the Ravenclaw told the Hufflepuff.

"Yeah? Where is it?" Harry asked, almost too casually.

"Not so fast," Hermione said, betting on Harry's ulterior motives. "What do I get out of it?"

"Well, if I put down the basilisk and close the Chamber of Secrets, the school will be safe," offered the Hermetic mage.

"Harry, we both know you're not doing it to make Hogwarts safe again," the Ravenclaw said. "Basilisk parts are very valuable, and I _know_ you know that, seeing how you have basilisk-hide gloves. How'd you even get them?"

"I'd rather not say," said the boy opaquely.

"What did you have to do to get them? Something illegal? Immoral? Embarrassing?"

"Yes."

"That's not an answer."

"It's close enough to one."

"Well, what's the customary finder's fee? Fifteen percent?"

"Ten to fifteen, yeah."

"Well, I'll tell you where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is, but only if you agree to give me fifteen percent of the basilisk," Hermione proposed.

"I'll take it," Harry said, and the two shook on it. "So where is it?"

"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is hidden away in the girls' bathroom on the second floor, the one haunted by the ghost of Myrtle Warren," Hermione disclosed.

"And how do you know this?" asked the Hermetic mage.

"I've been working on befriending Myrtle's ghost since we came back from Christmas holiday," said the Ravenclaw. "At first, I'd drop in once or twice a week and just greet her and ask how she was doing, and then, after a few weeks, I started visiting her more often, until I'd drop in every day to just talk to her.

"After a month or so, she really started to open up, and that's when I started to surreptitiously interrogate her about her death. A few things came up, including how the last thing she remembers before dying were glowing snake eyes, which lends credence to the basilisk theory, and after a few deductions and piecing together some of the puzzle on my own, I figured out the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets had to be in that bathroom."

"I hope you're right," said the Hermetic mage. "Because there could be a fortune riding on this."

Hermione considered the possibilities the aforementioned fortune could bring her; although her family was comfortably middle class, a fresh influx of money would mean her mum and dad could finally work fewer hours and be able to spend more time at home like they said they wanted to, and it would afford her family a few more luxuries.

"I want to be there, to make sure you kill the Beast," the girl added.

"That's good, because I'll need you there to tell me which wall to blow," the boy agreed.

"Which wall to blow?"

"Well, I don't know how to open the Chamber of Secrets. Do you?"

"No…"

"Then, we'll blow the entrance with explosives."

"Wouldn't that cause a disturbance?"

"Not with plastique; I should be able to shape it to produce minimal vibrations."

Hermione frowned. She had not expected Harry to suggest the use of explosive ordnance to get into the Chamber of Secrets, but she had also not thought through how they would otherwise open the Chamber.

"Give me some time to research how we might be able to open it without taking down a wall?" asked the Ravenclaw.

"Fine, but if you don't have a solution by the time we're going, I _will_ blow the wall."

**~ooOoo~**

"Hoi, chummer."

_Zhang Qiu_ would recognize the voice anywhere, if only because only Harry Potter would use those words in that combination.

"Hey, Harry," she said, turning towards the Hufflepuff.

"_Nǐ hǎo ma_?" he asked, as he fell into step besides her.

"_Wǒ hěn hǎo de. Nǐ ne_?"

The Hufflepuff didn't answer in words, instead raising one hand, palm downwards, and gave a half-shrug with his other shoulder.

Harry Potter flummoxed _Zhang Qiu_. She knew boys thought she was pretty; attracting the attentions of Cedric Diggory, among others, was proof enough of that, yet, the Boy-Who-Lived, despite their frequent flirting during gaming club, seemed completely oblivious to her charms and showed no real interest in her beyond their playful banter.

"Harry, do you think I'm pretty?" she asked suddenly.

The Hufflepuff considered her for a moment, and she could feel his critical eye on her.

"Eh, you okay," was his summary judgment.

The response threw the Ravenclaw for a loop; of all of the reactions, his indifference was not one she had ever expected.

"What?" she asked, completely flabbergasted.

"I mean, by Hogwarts standards, you're up there, maybe one of the five best looking girls, depending on what you're into," he told her, "but I've seen Morgan Fairchild in _The Seduction_, and let me tell you, she is _absolutely_ whiz. I mean, it was an absolute drekshow, a horrific piece of cinema that should never have been made, but I kind of understand now why people would want to see Miss Fairchild in it.

"You're all right, but you've got nothing on her. Or Mathilda May in _Lifeforce_. Or Elizabeth Shue in _Adventures in Babysitting_ and _Cocktail_, Lisa Bonet in _Angel Heart_, Jennifer Beals in _Flashdance_, Mia Sara in _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_, Kelly LeBrock in _Weird Science_, or Carrie Fisher in _The Return of the Jedi._

"You're not even Olivia Newton-John in the music video for 'Physical', or _Kusanagi Motoko_ in the manga _Ghost in the Shell_."

Completely taken aback, the Ravenclaw froze as she tried to process what he had just told her.

"Well, you're no Tom Cruise or Rob Lowe either!" she finally shouted at his back.

"So that's your type?" the Boy-Who-Lived called back without stopping, much to the Ravenclaw's chagrin. "Difference between us is, I don't care."

Then, he turned the corner, leaving the Ravenclaw fuming to herself.

Oh, she would show him.

She was so angry, it never even occurred to her to ask how someone who had been frequently locked in a cupboard under the stairs according to the _Prophet_'s articles had seen those movies.

Or watched MTV.

Or had manga, whatever that was.

**~ooOoo~**

Luna looked up from where she was lounging on the couch, leaning against a seated Liv, who was playing _Star Fox_ on her Super Nintendo; she had been relaxing, doodling various creatures from her imagination on the drawing pad in her hands while watching her sister play video games on the big screen television. Even though she had been around the two of them since September, the various technologies Jacoby and Liv used still amazed her sometimes, particularly the way Liv's new video game handled the sensation of flight.

"What'cha drawing?" Wolfgang asked, as he hung up his coat.

Luna looked down at her sketches, eyes wandering over the horse with flames for its mane, creature that looked like a kangaroo with the muscles and dermal deposits of a troll from _Shadowrun_, a game she had taken a keen interest in the story and lore of after discovering it in Harrison's library, and a bipedal dog with its skull on the outside of its head.

She really liked drawing with the colored pencils and sketch pad Liv had gotten her as a Christmas gift; it was much more portable than paint, and less messy than charcoal.

"Just a few creatures that might be interesting if they were real," she answered, holding up the spiral-bound booklet of drawing paper to show him.

"That's pretty cool," Phoenix said after taking a look at Luna's sketches.

Then, he quickly wrote a note, sealed it in an envelope and addressed it, before returning to Luna and handing the letter to her. "Could you post this for me tomorrow at breakfast?" he asked.

The girl read the address on the front of the envelope… "Llewellyn and Haig?" she asked, surprised. "What are you ordering?"

"Well, you need a bag of some kind, since you can't carry a trunk everywhere, and Liv and I already have our own," Tolliver said, patting the haversack he almost always carried with him. "Besides, I need another trunk anyways."

"And why is that?" Luna asked, curious. If she had learned anything about Harrison since meeting him for the first time on the train, it was that he never did anything without a reason.

"Danger just disclosed the location of the Chamber of Secrets," said Gideon. "I'm going to kill the basilisk and sell it for parts, so I'll need a place to store the corpse."

"I'll watch your six," Liv volunteered.

"Appreciate it," Jacoby said with a nod.

They had clearly decided that they were going to hunt the basilisk, so there was no reason to argue about it; besides, it made sense that they'd do so.

However, there was no way she was going to let them face that kind of danger alone; she wasn't going to lose her new family, at least not without a fight.

"I'm coming too," Luna announced.

"You can't," her sister and dad objected at the same time.

"Why not?" she asked. They clearly had misgivings, so maybe she could soothe them.

Amadeus and Liv shared a look.

"I can't lose you, Lulu," Liv said. "With Bear, he showed me there were conspiracies around every corner and monsters behind every door, that the world was full of darkness and terrible people doing terrible things to people didn't deserve it, and I felt like people just weren't worth it, that there was no reason to protect them because they were such horrible creatures, even if some, like Bear and his friends at the shop, are decent and good.

"Then, I met you, and you showed me I was wrong. You're sweet, caring, a little bit quirky, and you genuinely want to help other people, and when you did everything you could to help Susan after what happened to her, you made me realize, not everybody is a monster like how Bear sees them, and most people just want to get through their day and are just hoping for nothing bad to happen to them, while trying to enjoy the small pleasures in life.

"You changed how I see the world, and if I lost you, I don't know what I'd do. Besides, who would I have tickle fights with, or cuddle with when I'm reading a book or playing video games?"

Luna took the confession in stride. "I understand that, but I still want to come," she said. "And you'll be there too, so you can make sure nothing bad happens. What about you, Wolfy?"

Wolfgang cocked his head to the side at the nickname. "That's new," he observed.

"I just made it up," Luna said. "So, why can't I go?"

"I'm responsible for you now that you're my daughter, and you have neither the technical skills nor training to take on this kind of run," Gideon said. "I can't let you go in good conscience."

"So teach me."

"It would take weeks."

"We still have two months before the end of the year," Luna said, realizing she could win the argument. "You were only at camp for six weeks, so that's more than enough time to teach me everything I'd need to know.

"Besides, you can't stop me from coming along, not without tying or locking me up, and I know you wouldn't do either. Even you have lines you won't cross."

Amadeus sighed. "I can't talk you out of this?"

"No. I've made up my mind."

"You've got to promise, though, at the first sign of real trouble, you'll get out of there."

"I promise."

"Bear…"

"Look, Liv, we can't stop her, so the best we can do is prepare her for what's to come."

"Fine, but I don't like it."

"Neither do I, but that's where we're at."

**~ooOoo~**

Fay inhaled from the spliff, then passed it to Neville, holding the smoke in her lungs for a long moment before exhaling it in an O-shaped ring.

She felt nothing.

It had been that way since she had gotten the Ribbon tattooed around her left bicep; no matter how much she toked or how many edibles she ate, she simply could not get to that familiar feeling that had previously came with the consumption of cannabis.

Fay liked the tattoo; she thought it made her look cool and tough, even if the process of getting it inked had hurt like Hell.

She looked over at Neville, who was eating a large slab of cannabis-free caramel turtle brownie, one Fay had made specifically because she knew he simply could not resist the combination of caramel and chocolate when he was stoned out of his mind, and smiled slightly to herself, though she envied just how easily he could get high, noting that, as always, he was not wearing his Ribbon when he wasn't going from one place or another.

She was very worried about him; ever since they began selling the edibles together at the beginning of the year, she had noticed Neville steadily gaining weight, and what started as simply a bit chubby was rapidly becoming properly pudgy. Even worse, everytime she had recently seen his Remembrall, it was an intense red that simply would not fade, like he was forgetting things and just not remembering them.

Neville passed her the spliff, and Fay took it, taking another hit from the cannabis cigarette and holding the joint between her fingers, trying to decide what to do about what was happening to her best friend as she ran her other hand through her shock of pastel purple hair.

The thing about the Ribbon, though, was it did not prevent her from getting a contact high; as Neville let out a giggle while staring at the swirling within his Remembrall in wonderment, Fay felt a wave of calm slowly flow over her.

She could do something about it another time; right now, all she needed to do was relax. In a few hours, she would have to be at Quidditch practice, despite only warming the bench as a beater, and after a busy morning selling cocoa and baked goodness, she needed to unwind, even if only for a little bit.

**~ooOoo~**

With her homework mostly done, Susan Bones found herself with a little bit of leisure time before when she would normally go to bed for the night.

In that single moment of idleness, she felt the intrusive thoughts she had been able to avoid up until then begin to well up in the back of her mind, and, needing something, anything, to do to keep her mind occupied, she dropped to the floor, landing on her palms and toes, slowly lowering her body until her chest nearly touched the rug beneath her before slowly pushing herself back up. It was an exercise she knew from the self-defense courses she had with Harry, Liv and Luna every morning.

"What are you doing?" asked Hannah, from where she lounged on her bed in her pyjamas.

"Just trying to take my mind off of things," Susan said, as she continued doing press ups.

"Cedric Diggory talked to me today," her roommate suddenly blurted out, giddy. "Isn't he just the most handsomest?"

In the moment, Susan wasn't sure how to respond; she hadn't thought about boys in that way ever since what had happened, and, in fact, outside of Harry Potter, she hadn't really been able to talk to any of them at all without an overwhelming sense of dread, and thus, she avoided them as much as possible.

Maybe that was because she didn't think of Harry as a boy. Harry was just… Harry.

"Isn't he just the most handsomest?" Hannah prodded dreamily.

"I don't know!" Susan snapped back, suddenly assuming a seated position on the floor facing her roommate as annoyance began to fray her composure. "Maybe I just don't like boys!"

"Then what do you like? Girls? Eww…"

"What? No! I don't like anybody!"

Her roommate, who had once been her best friend, was starting to become a real annoyance. Not like Luna, who understood her and accepted things just were how they were.

"I'm going out," Susan suddenly announced, as Hannah blabbered on about Cedric; she felt her annoyance starting to boil over into a slow, simmering rage, and she really didn't want to snap at her roommate again.

She was going for a run. A run always made her feel better, and if that failed, she could find a few Slytherins to put her fists into.

Now _that_ would be fun.

**~ooOoo~**

Hermione Granger collapsed into bed; it had been a long day, full of research, revising, reading, and doing homework, and she was feeling the effects of the hard work.

How did Harry do this every single day?

She tried to figure out what he was doing differently than she was, but she never quite managed; sleep overtook her well before she even made a dent in the puzzle.

**~ooOoo~**

Fay Dunbar laid in the comfy coziness that was her bed, thinking about the day.

She had made so much money that morning, and although a cut of it would go to Harry, the bakery had earned more in one day even after overhead costs than what was probably in the Gringotts vault of the notoriously poor Weasleys.

Going into business with Harry had been the right move after all; with only the house elves providing food in the Great Hall during meal times, Hogwarts students were constantly looking for snacks in the periods in between, and while some had thought to bring food with them from home, purchase them whenever Hogsmeads visits were allowed, or even owl out for them, having a bakery in the castle was lucrative business, because they were the only source of fresh snacks made every day.

Sure, the cannabis-infused goodies hadn't been nearly as popular as Harry had expected and were mostly purchased by sixth- and seventh-year students, but Fay had adjusted for that, making mostly cupcakes, cookies and brownies that didn't have the extra special ingredient, and in doing so, they were still making money hand over fist.

Of course, there was Neville and his forgetfulness; though she couldn't be sure, Fay thought it might have to do with the way he was constantly baked, self-medicating to avoid the anxiety that plagued him when he wasn't. It was different than how she had toked, back when smoking could get her high; for her, weed had always been recreational, so she never really consumed it in the amounts or frequency Neville did.

She would have to talk to him about that.

But first, sleep.

**~ooOoo~**

Today had been a good day.

She had been able to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay, and even got to give Draco Malfoy a concussion when she had found him bullying a first-year girl in Gryffindor scarlet and gold. Getting to break Crabbe's nose and choke Goyle unconscious were just nice little bonuses.

Sure, she was given a week's detention, but it felt worth it when the girl thanked her so earnestly and profusely.

It wouldn't keep the nightmares away, but as she drifted off to sleep, Susan Bones smiled to herself, the first time in a long time.

**~ooOoo~**

Cuddled up against Liv, who was plush in all the right places, in her warm, fluffy bed, Luna Lovegood slowly drifted off to sleep.

Tomorrow was another day in the Easter holiday, and she was going to need all the sleep she could get, since she would be starting her training in all the other things Harrison thought she would need to know for accompanying him and her sister on their hunt for the basilisk.

What would a basilisk even look like?

Maybe if she asked nicely, it would let her draw it.

That would be pretty cool.

Shifting in the bed, she brushed up against Gideon, all lean muscle that felt like she was sleeping on a rare steak; on contact, he stirred by did not wake, his even breathing betraying his unconsciousness.

He was so cute when he slept, almost like he wasn't a secret spellcasting assassin.

Maybe she could write a story about a secret wizard assassin.

With that in mind, Luna Lovegood allowed the blackness of sleep to overcome her.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Absolutely my favorite chapter to write for _Physical Adept_. I enjoyed using the perspective of the other characters to advance the story and show other aspects of their interactions with Harry and each other that Harry would normally skip over because it wouldn't be interesting to him; it also gave me a chance to do some character development for characters Harry doesn't necessary interact with all that much.

A work ethic is something Harry wanted to teach Liv, which is why, even at Hogwarts, where house elves normally do the chores, there's housework to be done (besides the fact Harry warded the entire room, turning it into a safe haven house elves wouldn't be able to pop into).

Apparently, _Tempus_ is actually a fanon time-telling spell, so I decided to break from tradition and go with something that would connect more with the magical world clinging to the old instead of changing with the times. It was important to me to show that the magical world still used analog clocks for their time-telling interface, because it's immediately juxtaposed with Hermione's digital alarm clock in the next section.

I always thought of Hermione in canon as being very competitive; her need to be right and to know everything was always an extension of this, so it would only make sense for Hermione, knowing her best friend had his nose to the grindstone all the time, would want to be competitive with him with her own self-improvement.

Another D&D magical item makes an appearance, this one being a modified _hat of disguise_.

There's something between Hermione and Harry. I also wanted to demonstrate the rigidity of Hermione's approach versus the flexibility of Harry's. I also felt it important to give the other characters besides Harry a reason to want to move the plot forward; it'd only make sense for Hermione, who has known Harry for the better part of two years, to figure out what he's up to and want to get in on the action herself, then use her skill in data mining and analysis to make it happen.

The relationship between _Zhang Qiu_ and Harry in _Prisoner of Azkabam_ and _Goblet of Fire_ always felt weird to me, and I felt like her character was just there to be a plot device, then character assassinated. Here, I wanted more depth to their relationship, even if it's mostly Harry leading her on by flirting with her, until she finally asks and gets his response, which would hurt just about anybody; it gives a better reason as to why their relationship suddenly grows colder. That said, I also wanted to demonstrate what Harry meant by "better and more", which he's used several time so far in the series when young women have asked him to leave while they're changing. Let's just say one of the Irregulars really likes their gratuitous nudity and exploitation flicks; I'm looking at you, Shaun.

Yes, those are Pokémon that Luna drew. Yes, this is before _Pokémon_ came out in any form. Yes, this leads somewhere.

And that's the juxtaposition between Luna and Harry; Harry is hard-boiled, and Luna is genuinely a nice person. It made sense that Liv would need both of their influences to truly understand humanity.

And now, blowback and repercussions. Studies have shown that people who start abusing cannabis while very young tend to develop problems with memory and recall, among other things.

I think I might have made Hannah Abbott a little too much like a Valley girl? Also, I feel like the "ewww" reaction as appropriate for a 12-year-old in the early 90s, even though it'd be a problematic reaction today.

And sometimes, Harry is just wrong. After all, not everybody wants to get high.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	23. The Miseducation of Luna Lovegood

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 23: The Miseducation of Luna Lovegood**

* * *

There was literally nothing on the Chamber of Secrets beyond rumor and hearsay, of which none were really useful when they couldn't agree with each other on anything. When Gideon had tasked her with finding out the layout of the Chamber of Secrets, Luna had thought it would be easy to find something that would help in their upcoming expedition, but after scouring the library for several hours without the help of Madam Pince, who had looked genuinely mournful when Luna had asked her for assistance earlier and instead informed her through a pre-written placard that she had been forbidden to assist students in researching the subject, she had come away with all of nothing.

Uncharacteristically discouraged, the blonde Hufflepuff slowly trekked back to the room she shared with Wolfgang and her sister, worried she would be facing Jacoby's disappointment.

"I couldn't find anything," she said softly, looking down at her feet, when Amadeus greeted her at the door.

"Aw, poor Lulu," Liv said, folding the blonde in a warm hug and kissing her on the top of the head reassuringly. "Everything will be okay."

"Don't worry about it," Everest said with a shrug. "Sometimes, it just happens."

"Okay," Luna said, glad she wasn't going to be lectured. Then, she realized she wasn't sure what the lesson she was supposed to learn from the task had been. "What was I supposed to learn from that experience?"

"I just wanted you to do some research," Phoenix explained. "Before you can embark on any run, it's important to research and find out as much as you can about what you're getting into, because information saves lives, but sometimes, you just come up with nothing, and you just have to go in blind."

"But wouldn't that be dangerous?" Luna asked.

Tolliver shrugged again. "Any sort of run is dangerous; if it wasn't, anybody could do it, and it wouldn't be something we would do. The reason we do legwork in preparation for a job is to minimize the risk as much as possible, but you can never really reduce it to zero."

That made sense.

"So, what's the next lesson?" she asked eagerly.

Gideon and her sister shared a look. Then, he reached into his haversack and produced an oddly shaped piece of metal, quicking doing something he had done many times before as he extracted something from it.

"This is a pistol, a Walther PPK to be exact," Harrison said as he handed it to Luna. Touching the hollow, cylindrical end, he continued. "This is the business end, and you _do not_, under any circumstances, point this at anyone you don't intend to shoot, and you don't shoot anybody you don't intend to kill.

"Now let's start with the basics: disassembly, cleaning and reassembly. If a gun jams, misfires, ammo sticks or blows off your hand? You're in the drek, so let's never be there."

Luna nodded. She had no idea what he meant, but she was sure she'd know soon enough.

**~ooOoo~**

Luna felt the blood pounding in her ears, which were ringing from the pistol's report even though Harrison had insisted she wear earplugs. Engaging the safety, just as he had shown her, she slipped it into the thigh holster he had insisted she wear to carry the PPK in, her hands trembling with adrenaline as she tried to take deep breaths to slow her heart.

"How was it?" Liv asked.

"That… was very intense," said the blonde, after taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "My hands are still shaking."

"Good job on the tight grouping," Gideon called from next to the target. "You're a total natural, getting your shots so close together on target your first time out."

"I just followed my intuition, and my intuition said to take it slow," Luna admitted.

"Well, slow is smooth, and smooth is fast," said the boy. "There's no point in shooting if you're just going to miss the target."

"Why was it so loud?" Luna asked. "When you and Liv demonstrated with your guns, they were quiet, and they didn't jump in your hands."

"To be fair, we were able to use the enchantments on the guns, which mute the gunfire and counter the recoil," Everest said.

"Is this gun enchanted?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then why wasn't I able to use the enchantment?"

"It's because it's an activated enchantment," her sister said. "To use it, you have to fill it with Astral power; that way, anybody else who used the weapon would think it a normal one."

"Astral power?" Luna asked. She wasn't confused, but she also wasn't exactly sure what it was.

"It's what Bear and I use for magic," Liv explained. "Unlike the other students here, the source of our magic comes from the Astral Plane and not from inside of us, which is why our magic is different than what is taught here."

That explained why Liv's magic was so incredible.

"Can you teach me?" the blonde asked earnestly.

"Of course," said her dad. "C'mere."

Obediently, Luna went to Jacoby, and he gently placed his palm on her forehead.

"Feel the flow of the Astral power as it enters your body," Everest said.

Luna closed her eyes, ready to feel whatever Tolliver meant.

At first, there was nothing.

Then, she felt it, a comforting warmth that entered her body through where Wolfy's hand was pressed against her head, like a hug, but on the inside, and she let herself float on it like she was in an ocean of magical power. Even after he removed his hand, Luna continued to float in the magic, letting it saturate her very essence as she welcomed it in; there was nothing to be afraid of, just her and the Astral Plane wrapping her in its welcoming embrace. It felt safe and familiar, like echoes of her new family, and it felt almost alive, almost like it was whispering its secrets into her mind.

Opening her eyes, she glanced towards the dorm room door, locked to prevent unwanted visitors from intruding in on the training session.

There was no need to worry about specifics; magic was magic was magic.

"Could you unlock that, please?" she asked the magic flowing through her, though, to everybody else in the room, it must have looked like she was talking to nobody in particular.

She felt the warmth inside of her pulse slightly, almost as if to agree. Then the door clicked unlocked.

For the first time since she met him, Harrison looked genuinely confused.

It was a nice surprise, to see he could make that kind of expression.

**~ooOoo~**

"Dia, we love your fashion sense, but when you're on the job, you'll want to be a gray man."

"A 'gray man'?"

"Yes. It's a term used to describe somebody so utterly forgettable, nobody will remember them after the job is concluded. Like the color gray."

"But I _like_ pretty colors and awesome prints."

"And they look good on you…"

"The best…," agreed the dragon.

"But if you show up to the job in inappropriately eye-catching clothes, you'll be remembered, and that's not good for you."

"Unless that _is_ the job."

"Is that why we're ordering all these new clothes?"

"Yep."

"Okay."

**~ooOoo~**

"Colin, this is Dia. Dia, Colin."

"Luna Lovegood," Luna said, to the further confusion of the camera-wielding boy.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so confused," Colin apologized. "Everybody in class, even the professors, call you Luna, but Harry calls you 'Dia', and I think I heard Liv call you 'Lulu' before? Which is it?"

"All of them," said the blonde serenely.

"All of them?" echoed the photographer, his confusion unchanged.

"Yes."

"So, Colin, can you teach Dia about surveillance?" Jacoby asked. "I think you're probably better at it than me at this point, since you pretty much do it every day, and I only do it once in a while."

"Harry, I'm flattered, but I'm not the best teacher," Colin protested, even though he looked like he was secretly pleased.

"Don't worry, chummer, you got this," Wolfy said, giving the younger boy a thumbs up. "You're an expert, so you've got nothing to worry about."

Despite his protests, Colin looked as happy as a clam.

**~ooOoo~**

*_beep_*

"Bear, help!"

It was unlike the dragon to use her nickname for him, rather than his call sign, over the radio, but he also hadn't heard that kind of panic in Liv's voice since their first few months together, when she still only had the maturity of a small child and was easily frightened.

*_beep_*

"Where?" Harry asked.

*_beep_*

"Two-nineteen."

*_beep_*

"On my way."

Quickly, the Hermetic mage dumped all of the stuff he had laid out on the desk into his haversack in a hurry; he was on the sixth floor, and he had to get down four stories as fast as possible, so he had no time to lose.

Crossing over to the wall, the boy threw open one of the double windows, then took four steps back. With a running start, he hurled himself out of the aperture, free-falling three stories before he passed Astral power through his walking stick, feeling his shoulder nearly get jerked out of its socket as his descent suddenly halted. Growling, he pulled himself up until he was resting his entire weight on just his hands, then dropped back down, kicking his legs out as he did so and swinging towards the window in the wall below before swinging back away.

He had one shot to make the pass back into the castle, and he wasn't going to fail.

With another swing, he let go of the cane and crashed through glass and wood, sending it splintering and shattering onto the stone floor as he rolled side over side, bleeding off the impact of the landing, surprising the older boy and girl who were occupying the room and each other's laps, making them yelp and pull apart from each other.

Continuing in a dead run, the shadowrunner threw open the door and barreled through, turning the corner, only to be faced by a hallway full of students.

"Move! Get out the way!" Harry roared, and at the shouted demand full of barely-contained fury, the crowd parted, allowing the Boy-Who-Lived to pass at full speed.

"No running in the…"

The ginger never quite finished the sentence; he was interrupted as Harry jumped into him with a flying knee square to the chest, sending him crashing to the floor from the momentum of the running attack, before two quick punches to the jaw rattled the back of his head against the floor and sent him off to dreamland.

Then, the shadowrunner was going again, legs pumping and boots pounding the smooth stone beneath him as he dashed down the hallway, coming to a stop only when he came to a classroom with "219" painted on the door.

Throwing the door open, Harry was met with a sight that made his heart nearly stop.

Dia was on the floor, twitching and convulsing, eyes rolled back into her head as blood gushed out of her ears, nose, mouth and corner of her eyes, while Liv knelt over her pallid body, stained up to her elbows in dark red blood, obviously pouring _mend wounds_ into the writhing girl beneath her with as much Astral power as she could manage.

"Bear, help her!" the dragon pleaded tearfully.

Closing the door behind him, the shadowrunner channeled Astral power into the tattoo at the heel of his palm; he had seen this before, when Hermione had overchanneled her magic for her first spell, and he was certain Dia had done something similar.

With electricity crackling around his left hand, Harry knelt by the girl thrashing on the floor; before he could do anything, though, the dragon grabbed his hand with her one.

"What are you doing?" the Norwegian Ridgeback demanded.

"I need to shock her to get her body to stop channeling magic," Harry explained. "It's the only way."

Liv nodded, letting go, and the Hermetic mage placed his hand the unconscious girl's chest; immediately, her entire body stiffened as her back arched, and Harry quickly flushed the Astral power from the tattoo, the arcs of electricity around his hand disappearing as he did so, and the dragon-in-girl's-form quickly placed her hands back on the first-year girl.

Slowly, the bleeding slowed from a deluge into a trickle, then finally stopped, all courtesy of the healing magic the dragon was pumping into the girl.

After a long moment, the blonde's eyes slowly opened.

"What happened?" she asked weakly, trying to sit up.

Instantly, the dragon-in-girl's-form wrapped the girl in her arms, ignoring her blood-drenched clothes, skin and hair as she held her close. "I was so scared, Lulu!" she sobbed. "I thought you were going to die!"

"I'm okay," the girl said feebly, stroking Liv's back reassuringly. "What happened?"

"You were gushing blood, probably out of every orifice," the Hermetic mage said.

"That would explain why my knickers are soaked and sticky," Dia deadpanned.

"Well, to be fair, that could just be your period," Harry said flatly.

"I don't think I period out of my butt," said the blonde, smiling wryly.

"No, I don't think that's biologically probable," the Boy-Who-Lived agreed, the ghost of a smile flitting across his lips as well. "What do you remember?"

"So, I don't know if you know this, since you can't use magic with wands, but when you cast a spell with a wand, it pulls magic out of you, from around here," Dia said, gently freeing herself from the dragon before gesturing around her abdominal area. "Well, I thought I'd try mixing the magic from there with the magic from the Astral Plane, and the next thing I knew, I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside. Then, I was waking up, sticky and wet, and Liv was kneeling over me, crying."

"Liv? What'd you see?"

The dragon-in-girl's-form considered for a moment. "She was drawing magic from the Astral Plane while also pulling on the magic from inside her, but when the two met, they started to fight each other."

Harry considered the Norwegian Ridgeback's observations; it was in moments like these where her Astral perception was incredibly useful.

If what the two said was true, then Dia had just tried to mix magic from the Astral Plane with her own native source, and the interaction between the two had nearly been fatal.

He didn't get to complete that thought; the door to the room slammed open, and he spun instinctively in its direction, Beretta in hand as he stepped between the door and his daughters.

"Whoa! Easy there!" said Fay, her hands rising up instantly as she stepped in front of Neville. "We heard the call on the radio and just thought Liv might need help."

Peeking around the gun-toting boy, she flinched. "Is that blood?" asked the Gryffindor girl.

"Dia's."

Fay looked horrified. "Is she all right?"

"I'm okay," the blonde called from behind the Boy-Who-Lived. "Leelee's is taking care of me."

In a hurry, the Gryffindors pushed passed the Hermetic mage, who quietly stowed his pistol in his waistband and closed the classroom door, jamming a chair under the door handle as a makeshift barricade; for a moment, he wished he still had his walking stick, so he could bar it too, but that was neither here nor there.

"Harry… Knife?" Neville asked, as he reached into his pocket, digging through it for a moment before retrieving several small paper packages wrapped in twine and a glass flask.

Without a word, the Hermetic mage tossed his switchblade to the Gryffindor, who caught it awkwardly between his arm and his side; popping out the blade, he cut the packets free of the twine and dumped the contents into the flask, then turned towards the dragon-in-girl's-form.

"Liv, water, if you'd be so kind?"

Liv waved a hand over the flask, and it quickly filled with water to the neck.

Stoppering the flash with a cork, the pudgy boy gave it a few hard shakes, then held it up to the light for a moment before handing it to the still-prone Hufflepuff girl being cradled by the dragon-in-a-girl's-body.

"What is this?" Dia asked.

"It's a quick and dirty version of the Blood-Replenishing Potion," the Gryffindor explained. "Isn't as effective as the real thing, but does the job in a pinch, and you don't need a cauldron for it."

"What?" he asked, as he saw the looks of surprise on the face of Liv and Fay. "The stuff I smoke isn't the only herb I'm good with."

"Thank you," said the Hufflepuff girl, as she gulped down the tincture. Color quickly began returning to her face, and after a moment, she freed herself from the dragon's arms and stood, dripping blood all over the floor.

"What in God's name happened here?" Fay asked, surveying the blood-spattered classroom.

"A bit of this and that," said the Hermetic mage vaguely.

"I was experimenting with magic," Dia said serenely. "Mixed a little bit of Astral power with my own, and, well, it went sideways."

"Astral power?" asked Fay, puzzled. "What's that?"

"It's what Gideon uses for magic," said the blonde, as Harry felt a headache start in the back of his skull. "And not just the enchantments either; real magic, like spells and stuff…"

"Wait, you can use magic?" asked the Gryffindor girl, turning towards the Boy-Who-Lived, her indignation evident on her face.

Harry shrugged, as Neville lit a spliff and took a drag from it.

"Why didn't you tell us? I thought we were friends!"

"You didn't need to know."

"You still could have told us!"

"Again, you didn't need to know. I mean, I don't tell you when I crack one off, so why do I need to tell you about this?"

"What is with you and your secrets?" Fay asked, annoyed. "What are you afraid of?"

"Remember: You-Know-Who isn't dead," Harry said. "There are people who can read minds, some of whom might work for him and cross your paths without you even knowing, and if they read your minds with my secrets in them, my advantages evaporate, and I'd like to have my advantages if I'm going to war."

"But what if they read your mind? Or Liv's?"

"They can't," the dragon said. "Our minds are protected; that's why the Hat couldn't sort us."

"And Luna? Is her mind protected too?"

"In a manner of speaking," Harry said.

"What does that even mean?" Fay questioned.

"We're together enough to where my protections will shield her," the dragon said shortly.

"They do?" Dia asked.

"I didn't think I'd be walking into this," said Hermione, as she slipped through the door and closed it behind her; clearly, she had used _knock _to get past the makeshift barricade. "That's a lot of blood; do I want to know what happened here?"

"Magical mishap," the blood-soaked blonde said.

"Oh, I had one of those, the first time I tried…" started the Ravenclaw, suddenly stopping when she saw the Gryffindors.

"We know Harry can use magic," Neville said bluntly, exhaling a ring of smoke.

"Well, the first time I tried Hermetic magic, I nearly melted my brain," Hermione said, almost seeming to smile at the memory.

"You don't seem very disturbed by this," Fay observed.

"I mean, I was there when Harry burned the troll to death with fire," said the bushy-haired girl. "After that, I couldn't even look at a roast for a month without wanting to throw up, so this is pretty tame in comparison."

"Anybody have any extra clean clothes on them?" interrupted the Hermetic mage. "It's not like Dia and Liv can traipse through the halls drenched in blood."

"Couldn't you just clean the blood out?" Hermione asked. "You did it last time."

"Floor would be pretty easy, but clothes and skin, not so much," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "Remember last time, when I used it, and the blood disappeared from your skin, but you still felt like you needed to scrub your hands afterwards, right? It's because the spell managed to clean the surface, but blood still soaked into your pores, and that's a feeling you can't shake, and that's the same with the clothes, since the blood soaks into the fabric."

"I need a shower," Dia agreed.

"Well, you can take one when you get back to our room," Harry said, setting down his ever-present bag.

"Wait, you're sharing a room with Liv and Luna?" Hermione asked, clearly appalled.

"They're my daughters, and they're not even teenagers yet," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "What do you expect me to do, let them live alone?"

"Since when has Luna been your daughter?" Fay asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"About a week after Valentine's Day, but keep that under your hat."

"What? Why?"

"There will be people motivated by political and personal gain who will want to know who adopted Dia," the shadowrunner said. "I'd like to not make it easy for them."

Meanwhile, Liv waved her hand, and the pool of blood on the floor slowly contracted until there was none left. Likewise, the blood on the girls' skin shrunk until they disappeared, while the dark red stains on their clothes faded a little, but remained splotched onto the fabric.

"Why don't they just borrow your clothes until they get back to our room?" Neville suggested. "With the way you carry it everywhere, I assume you practically live out of your haversack."

"Yeah, why didn't you think of that?" Hermione challenged.

"Look, Danger, I'm just one guy. I can't think of everything," Harry said.

The conversation was interrupted by the screeching sound of a furniture being pushed along the floor, and all eyes turned in the direction of the noise to see Dia using the cobwebbed desk at the front of the classroom as a barrier between herself and the dragon.

"C'mere," Liv said, as she swiped across the table, and Luna dodged to the side, giggling.

The two went back and forth for a few more moments before the dragon suddenly hurdled the table in one twisting flip, catching the surprised blonde by the wrist as she tried to slip away and hoisting her up onto her shoulder, all while the girl continued to giggle.

With exaggerated high-steps, Liv marched over to where Harry had set down his haversack before jumping in, carrying the slight blonde with her as she did so.

"So, were you ever going to tell us?" Fay demanded.

"I would have, at some point," said the Hermetic mage, trying to placate the girl with the pastel purple dye job.

"What point would that have been?" the Gryffindor girl asked forcefully.

"When it came up," Harry said with a shrug.

"So, the troll, was that magic?" Neville asked, interrupting Fay before she could continue.

"Yes."

"And the jellied petrol, did you make that up?"

"Yes and no. I didn't use it that time, but I do know how to make it."

"How'd you kill it, then?"

"I have an entire repertoire of battle magic, designed specifically to kill."

"An entire what?" Fay interrupted.

"Repertoire," Harry repeated. Seeing the confusion still on her face, he decided to rephrase it. "When it comes to Hermetic magic, I know _a lot_ of spells. Many which I can use in a fight."

"Then why are you failing Charms and Transfiguration?" the purple-haired girl asked.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be failing."

"Have you tried…?" Neville started to ask.

"I've tried pretty much everything," Harry said. "It doesn't really bother me anyways, aside from the failing grades, which honestly, won't matter in the real world."

"What do you mean?" Hermione demanded. "If you fail Charms and Transfiguration, you won't be able to take the NEWTs for them!"

"Yeah, again, I really don't care," the Hermetic mage reiterated with a shrug. "I don't need a piece of paper to tell me if I'm good at something."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group.

"What the Hell is taking the girls so long?" Harry asked after a long moment, crossing to where the bag was.

Sticking his head inside, he pulled it back out almost instantly. "I think I'm going to give them a minute. Or ten."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked, joining him next to the bag and poking her head inside.

A moment later, her head was back out, her cheek flushed a bright red.

"_Oh_…"

"Yep…," said the Hermetic mage, a lopsided smile on his face. "I'm going to go back to our room, and maybe they'll be done by then."

He made a mental note to retrieve his cane when it was all said and done.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** As demonstrated in "Fallout", Harry is a good teacher, and sometimes, the lesson is in learning the process, not the achieving the result.

The line about maintenance comes from _Graceland_, which was really good for about a season

Harry and Hermione are Hermetic mages, and Liv instinctively manipulates magic directly, but Luna was never going to be on either of those paradigms of magic, because it just doesn't suit her character. She's something more primal, more cooperative.

The internal/external magic conflict was originally intended to be explored in a much later book, but then Luna happened and I realized I had to move it up ahead of schedule; given her inquisitive nature and willingness to just try things out, it would only make sense she'd end up trying to combine the two, to disastrous results.

Liv panicking is a new look for a creature otherwise practically a force of nature.

Neville flexing so matter-of-factly was something I wanted to showcase.

Because Harry never explained how he was compartmentalizing information within the circle, it'd make sense for one part of it to spill something he was keeping in his back pocket to another part of the circle, since they're still within the circle, and thus, Neville and Faye discover he's got magic, even though he wasn't planning on telling them (yet). Again, the inconvenience of people having their own minds.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	24. A Hunting We Will Go

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 24: A Hunting We Will Go**

* * *

With Luna's additional training added to his daily menu of tasks, the Hermetic mage barely noticed as April became May, what with his own training, research and development, business considerations and physical fitness regimen taking up so much of his time. It made him wish there were more hours in the day, but there were not.

The monotony of the daily grind was interrupted in the middle of the month.

*_beep_*

"Whip, Wells! Help! Basilisk! Three-thirty-four! Over!"

It was after dark, so he was in the dorm room he shared with his daughters, and upon hearing the message, the trio shared a look.

*_beep_*

"Wells, Whip. On our way. Out."

"Gear up, we're going in hot, " said the shadowrunner, crossing to the hook where he had hung his black long coat, pulling it on before slinging his haversack over his shoulder.

With a nod, the Norwegian Ridgeback and her human sister quickly dressed themselves in dark clothes, strapping on holsters and firearms as they finished outfitting themselves.

Then, they were off, slipping out of their dorm room like thieves in the night.

Moving in formation, the trio advanced on their target in a bounding overwatch, rotating their fields of fire to ensure they did not miss any details during their progress to their destination, and it was for this reason that Luna saw it first.

"Contact!" she whispered, and her companions turned in the direction she was facing.

"Damn, that's a big-ass snake," Harry whispered back.

He wasn't wrong.

The snake in question was as tall and wide as a city bus, but probably long enough to rival the morning commuter train into London Waterloo, though its true length was difficult to ascertain, as it was coiled up in front of a classroom door in wait.

"Is that the basilisk?" Luna asked softly, before cooing, "Aww, it's so cute!"

Harry and Liv shared a look; the blonde had… interesting tastes.

"All right, grab cover," the shadowrunner directed, and the first-year Hufflepuffs scurried along the wall, opening classroom doors to provide themselves barriers to hide behind, while he ducked back behind the corner they had just turned and leaned out with his rifle in hand, ready to lay down suppressive fire.

Once Liv and Luna were in position, Harry braced his rifle against his shoulder and took aim, taking a deep breath to steady his hands before he pulled the trigger.

"Grenade out!"

With a loud thump, the underbarrel grenade launcher spat forth its payload in a parabolic arc, detonating with a thunderous roar as it struck the serpent's side. Hissing in pain, it reeled and turned to face the direction the attack had originated from, its glowing yellow eyes scanning the darkened hallway.

"Moving!" the shadowrunner shouted, emerging from around the corner, firing his weapon in quick bursts as he advanced; the attacks seemed to be effective, albeit only causing stinging pain instead of the devastating injuries it would normally inflict on a smaller target, making the basilisk slowly inch backwards.

The dragon leaned out from behind the door she had taken cover behind, the muzzle flash of her weapon lighting up the hallway as it disgorged bullets, and the boy shifted the barrel of his rifle floorwards and broke into a dead sprint, reloading both his grenade launcher and the detachable box magazine as he did so. Dashing past Luna, who had the point position, he yanked the door of the next classroom open and took cover, then quickly leaned out from behind it, squeezing off a burst from his HK33.

"Grenade out!" called the dragon, and from behind the shadowrunner, a 40mm grenade arced overhead, exploding in a burst of shrapnel as it struck the giant snake in the face.

With a shriek of pain, the basilisk reared up and whirled, rapidly slithering away from the door it had been stationed in front of.

It was definitely longer than the morning train into London Waterloo.

"On me," whispered the shadowrunner, and the trio shifted back into formation, moving in the bounding overwatch until they reached their destination.

"Stack up," ordered the boy, sliding his back up against the wall next to the door knob, while his human daughter took the side of the door with the hinges and the dragon dropped to a knee at his other side, her weapon at the ready as she swept the barrel from side to side.

"Breach."

Hearing Harry's words, Luna put her hand on the handle and pulled the door open; quickly, the shadowrunner stepped inside, rifle leveled and ready to fire.

"Harry," said the bushy-haired girl, quickly rising off the floor where she had been sitting with her arms around her knees. "You came..."

"Of course I came," the boy said, as he continued to sweep the room, while Liv and Luna filtered in behind him. Spotting the older girl with long, curly hair, garbed in blue and bronze also present, he stepped towards her, rifle leveled at her face, and immediately, her hands went up. "Who the frag are you?"

"Penny!" said the girl, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. "Penelope Clearwater!"

"I thought you'd be with Su-Jin," Harry said, rifle still trained on the unfamiliar girl.

"She's busy working on a project," Hermione explained. "I needed somebody else for the buddy system to work, and Penelope was already going out, so I thought I'd go with her."

"What are you even doing out so late at night?"

"I needed a few books on runes for a side project of my own, so I was going to the library to get them, and now, here I am."

"You get the books?"

"I ran into the basilisk first."

The shadowrunner considered the situation for a moment. Then, to the older girl, he said, "You didn't see me, we've never met."

"What?" she asked.

"I got this," Hermione said, before stepping between Harry and her fellow Ravenclaw, quickly gesturing with her wand. "_Memoria flexibilis_."

The tip of the piece of shaped wood in her hand glowed green briefly, and the older girl's eyes glazed over.

"You were going to meet your boyfriend alone when you saw a giant snake and realized you might be in danger," the bushy-haired girl told her housemate. "You ducked into this classroom to hide, by yourself, but now, you think the danger's passed and will feel brave enough in a few minutes to head back to Ravenclaw Tower."

Then, to the Hermetic mage and his daughters, she said, "We should go, before she comes to her senses and sees us again."

The foursome exited the room and crossed to the classroom across the hall.

"We're taking it down tonight," Harry suddenly announced.

"What? Why?" the Ravenclaw asked, surprised.

"I can let a lot of things slide, but you take a shot at one of mine, I'm going to come back with the wrath of a million suns."

"It took a shot at Colin in November, and you did nothing. You finally got something to store the carcass in, didn't you?"

"That's coincidental, and Creevey's _just_ an asset."

"Like Fay and Neville were? Last year, you said they were assets, and now, you're pretty close friends with them."

"Sometimes, assets can become something more."

"What's to say Colin can't?"

"Nothing, but he's not _yet_."

A beat followed.

"So, what's the plan?"

"Well, it's injured, so it's most likely heading back to a familiar place, like its nest, which means it's probably headed back to the Chamber of Secrets, so that's where we're going."

"But I'm not ready," the Ravenclaw protested.

"Not much of a choice; if we give it time to heal and regroup, it might get more aggressive when it realizes there are more dangerous things out there than just unprepared students.

"C'mon. We should go."

"Wait! I'm not prepared!" Hermione protested again. "I don't have anything for this!"

The shadowrunner reached into his haversack, retrieving a pistol made from plastic polymer, pushing it side-first into the Ravenclaw's stomach. "Take this," he said. "It doesn't have any safety you need to worry about, so just point, squeeze and shoot."

Hermione lifted the pistol, and Harry immediately pushed it to the side to get the barrel pointed away from Luna. "Whoa, there! Don't ever point that thing at anything you don't mean to shoot, and don't ever shoot anything you don't intend to kill," he warned her.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, quickly directing the muzzle of the handgun groundward.

"All right, let's get moving. Rook, cover the rear; Danger, you stay between her and Dia, and I'll take the lead on this."

It took ten minutes and three detours to get down a single floor; despite being after curfew and there being a dangerous paracritter prowling the halls, there were a surprising number of students wandering the halls, now there was no longer a caretaker prowling the grounds in search of students to give detention to.

It could only be the invulnerability of youth.

Arriving at their destination, the four students quickly entered in a hurry; once they were inside, the shadowrunner pressed his walking stick against the door—which opened inwards—and passed Astral power through it, letting go and hitting it twice with the bottom of a closed fist, making sure it barred the door in place.

"What are you doing?"

Whirling, the Hermetic mage nearly shot the bespectacled, pigtailed ghost.

"Oh, hey Myrtle," said the Ravenclaw with a gentle smile. "These are my friends, and we're here to avenge your death."

"Oh," said the ghost.

"Yes," Hermione continued, as she saw the Hufflepuff boy retrieve several bright orange bricks wrapped in clear plastic from his haversack. "Do you remember if anything happened just prior to after your death?" she asked.

"I can't," Myrtle said. "Everything from that night is fuzzy."

"I thought you knew where the entrance was," the shadowrunner said to the Ravenclaw pointedly.

"Well, I know it's in here," the bushy-haired girl argued back.

"A lot of good that does us," Harry growled. "Your legworks leaves something to be desired."

"Let's see you do better, then."

The shadowrunner and the dragon shared a look, then nodded at the same time, quickly crossing to the walls and beginning to tap on them with fists and stamp their feet on the floor.

"What are you doing?" the bushy-haired brunette asked.

"Trying to find something hollow," Liv said, she continued to strike the wall with her knuckles.

"That's some spell you cast," Luna said, as she watched her dad and sister searched the room. "Where'd you learn it?"

"It was something I found in Lockhart's little black book," the Ravenclaw said. "He was developing a new kind of memory-manipulation charm, and I pieced together what he had, then perfected it."

"How did you even test it?" Harry called out in question.

"Don't tell Su-Jin, but I've been trying it on her," Hermione admitted. "Just little things, like changing her memory of what she ate for breakfast, or where she left her pencil case."

"That sounds like something I'd do," Harry said. "As you'd say, 'that's not nice'."

"I'm not proud of it, but I needed somebody to test the spell on, and I wasn't going to try it on a professor. Or you, since it probably just wouldn't work on you," the Ravenclaw said. "Su-Jin was the closest, so I ended up using her as a guinea pig."

"Weren't you worried about wiping out large chunks of her memory?" Luna asked, seemingly unconcerned.

"Well, I…"

"Found something," interrupted the dragon, as she continued to tap the wall around one of the sinks.

Quickly, the shadowrunner joined her in tapping the wall and floor around the sink, then started to unwrap one orange brick while handing the other to the dragon-in-girl's-form.

"What is that?" asked the Ravenclaw.

"Semtex," the shadowrunner answered.

"Come again?"

"Plastique."

"I still don't know what that is."

"Plastic explosives."

Hermione quickly stepped backwards and away from the duo preparing the explosives.

"Where the hell did you get that?" she demanded.

"I've got an arms dealer connect," said the shadowrunner calmly. "This drek's pretty stable, so you don't have to worry about it blowing up by accident."

"Why not just use magic?" Hermione asked.

"Every time I use Hermetic magic, I use energy and get more tired," said the Hermetic mage.

"I don't," the Ravenclaw said, frowning.

"Are you using inside magic, or are you pulling magic from the Astral Plane?" Luna asked.  
"Because when I use the magic inside me, I don't get tired at all, but if I'm using Astral power, it wears me out pretty quickly."

"Wait, you taught _her_ the Hermetic arts?" Hermione demanded.

"Dia's my daughter," said the Hermetic mage with a shrug, molding the putty-like orange explosives in a wide, thin ring around the sink in question along with Liv. "She was eventually going to find out, and I wasn't going to _not_ teach her."

"Is that why you like guns and knives?"

"Mundane solutions don't wear me out as much, and most of them don't also require me to use obvious gestures and incantations that would be a dead giveaway."

He said this as he plugged a blasting cap into the plastique, and Liv backed away from the sink, pulling Luna with her into a toilet stall; a moment later, he lit the fuse with a match, then turn and ran for cover, grabbing the Ravenclaw by the sleeve and pulling her into a stall with him.

A loud explosion followed a moment later, though it only slightly shook the bathroom; when the foursome emerged from the toilets, the sink had been replaced by a pile of rubble, which the dragon-in-girl's-form quickly shoveled aside with her bare hands, revealing a pipe large enough to fit a body.

"What… what have you done?" cried the ghost, indignant.

"Opened the way to the Chamber of Secrets," the Hermetic mage said flatly. "I'll take point; Danger, you're right behind me, then Dia, you're next. Rook…"

"I'll bring up the rear, Whip."

"Atta girl," said the shadowrunner, before sitting down at the edge of the pipe, bringing his knees up near his chest and tucking his pistol between his legs.

Then, he shoved off, and into the pipe he went.

It was like what he imagined a waterslide would be like, except dark, foul-smelling and dangerously long.

He came out of the other end and rolled as he hit the stone floor, quickly rising to a knee and sweeping the area with the barrel of his weapon, surveying the immediate area for threats.

A moment later, he was joined by his best friend, then his daughters.

"Area secure," said the dragon-in-girl's form, a moment after she joined them in the tunnel, which was tall enough to stand in, but not much else.

"This looks like some sort of defunct sewage system," Hermione observed.

The foursome considered the darkened tunnel ahead of them; then, glowing off-white orbs formed around the group, filling the gloom with a soft, warm light.

All eyes turned to Liv, who shrugged. "_Light_," she said, as though that explained everything.

"We should go," Harry said, weapon at the ready. "Bounding overwatch. Danger, stay inside."

Before the Ravenclaw could protest, the trio of Hufflepuffs moved into formation around her; when she didn't move, Liv put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a push, and she found herself being guided down the tunnel as the shadowrunner and his daughters moved down the corridor, continuously rotating around her.

They proceeded down the tunnel for several minutes, alert and ready to engage in a fight, finally coming to a stop before a wall with two intertwined serpents embossed carved on it, with glinting green gemstones set in the eyes.

"This must be the door to the Chamber," observed the Ravenclaw. "But how do we open it?"

"Same way as the bathroom," said the shadowrunner, taking four more bricks of plastique out of his haversack, pushing half of them into the dragon's hands. "Take the right side."

Then, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his friction folder, handing it to his other daughter. "Dia, see if you can get the emeralds loose; they'll probably be worth something."

"You can't just vandalize a historical site!" Hermione protested.

"Fastest way to get in," the Hermetic mage countered, as the dragon set her two charges and then helped him in linking the bricks with lengths of detcord. "Now get back, because if this goes south, we're in a very confined space and we'll all eat a drekload of shrapnel."

The four took cover around the corner, the shadowrunner and the Ravenclaw on one side, and the blonde and the dragon on the other. Then, she leaned around the corner, coughed once and spat a small ball of flames, no larger than a ping pong ball, at the fuse, even as the blonde handed the friction folder back to its owner, who pocketed it.

"Fire in the hole."

The entire tunnel shook violently as the plastic explosives detonated with an ear-splitting, thunderous blast, shaking loose dust and chunks of rock and plaster that fell from the ceiling.

Before the dust even settled, Harry was storming down the corridor, leading with his rifle; Hermione felt Luna's hand on her shoulder, pushing her after him, and the sound of footfall behind her meant Liv was sweeping the rear.

The Chamber was long and badly lit; it took the shadowrunner a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark, and as he looked around, his saw serpent-entwined pillars on either side rise into the gloom to a ceiling so high he could not see it through the dull, green-grey mist. The floor was covered with a shallow film of water, splashing with every step they took into it.

Cautiously, the armed trio advanced into the Chamber in a rotating formation, weapons at the ready; in between them, Hermione kept pace but gawked at the sights all around her, taking in the long-hidden Chamber in awe.

Before they even reached the last pair of pillars in the Chamber, the Hermetic mage could see the outline of a statue looming before the back wall.

The basilisk was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, there was a small girl in scarlet and gold seated between the statue's feet, her flame-colored hair hanging in front of her face as she scribbled in the small book in her hands.

At the sound of footfall and water splashing, the girl looked up, her eyes taking a moment to focus on the foursome in the gloom.

"You're Harry Potter," she said in recognition as her expression took on a look of surprise.

Then, her eyes rolled backwards into her head, closing as she slumped over sideways like somebody had cut the strings on a marionette.

"Cover me," Harry directed.

"Copy," Liv said, dropping to a knee, taking up a stance with her rifle at the ready.

Quickly, the boy crossed to the fallen girl, pressing two fingers to her throat to check for a pulse, finding a heartbeat that started steady, but the beats quickly increased in pace even as its strength diminished.

"That's Ginevra Weasley," Luna observed.

"Whoever she is, she's alive."

"But only just," said a quiet, unfamiliar voice.

A tall, black-hair boy emerged from the shadows behind one of the pillars, his outlines blurred and fractured, his form washed out and translucent.

"The fuck are you?" the dragon snarled.

"Tom Riddle," the specter said calmly.

"Never heard of you," the shadowrunner said tensely, finger tightening on the trigger, tracking the tall boy as he crossed to the fallen girl, where he crouched down and picked up the wand that had fallen from her robes.

"I'm sure you have," said the newcomer, as he turned to the four gun-toting children. "Unfortunately, you being here has forced me to accelerate my plans."

"What plans?" Hermione asked.

"That diary poor little Ginny's been writing in, month after month, telling me of her pitiable worries and woes… it's my diary," said Tom. "She poured her little heart out to me, and even though it was the boring prattle of a prepubescent girl, I was patient; I answered back, I listened, I offered sympathy and kindness.

"Funny how much I had to prod her to get her to write even the smallest thing about you; I would have thought she would be happy to gossip about you, you being famous and all."

"Don't really care," the shadowrunner said, calmly.

"Well, as she poured her soul out to me, that's exactly what I took," Riddle said, a dark smile turning the corner of his lips upwards. "With every little fear and secret she wrote, I took a bit of her soul, until I was strong enough to start possessing her.

"It was through her that I opened the Chamber of Secrets and attacked the mudbloods with the Serpent of Slytherin."

"If that's what you call 'attacked', I've got news for you," the Ravenclaw growled. "We survived."

"That's a pity," said the specter. "Nonetheless, it's time for you to die."

Riddle hissed something, and the mouth the statue swung open; from it emerged the basilisk, which struck the floor with a thud.

"Rook, get Dia and Wells out of here!" ordered the shadowrunner.

"Wilco," said the dragon, before picking up both of the girls, dashing off with them on her shoulders despite the rather vocal protests from the Ravenclaw.

"You're certainly brave," Riddle said, as the Hermetic mage was left alone with the specter and the basilisk. "Foolhardy, but brave."

Riddle hissed something, and the basilisk uncoiled itself in a rapid strike, but the shadowrunner was already on the move, sprinting behind the nearest pillar and putting it between himself and the serpent and the specter.

The King of Serpents was earthbound, so as soon as the Hermetic mage was in the air, he would have the tactical advantage.

"_Muto corporem_," he incanted in a whisper.

In an instant, his robe and shirt were torn apart as a wave of fatigue washed over him and a pair of black feathered wings sprang forth from his shoulder blades, leaving him clad in only in trousers and boots, his rifle and haversack slung over his shoulders.

His wings beating furiously, the Hermetic mage raced towards the ceiling, firing a grenade from the underbarrel launcher as he did so. Struck by shrapnel, the basilisk hissed but continued to stalk the flying boy; the grenade had about as much of an effect as small arms fire, and while it certainly seemed to sting the king of serpents, it was not enough to deter it now that it had apparently been given direct orders to kill.

Still, the Beast of Slytherin was groundbound, and as long as the shadowrunner remained airborne, they were in a stalemate, the basilisk unable to reach the boy and the Hufflepuff unable to hurt the serpent in any meaningful way with his weapons.

Something needed to change.

With that in mind, he began to draw Astral power into his nerves, shaping it as he visualized a chunk of one of the nearby pillars crumbling into dust, dropping the rest of the pillar onto the head of the basilisk.

He never saw the impact coming, and the whipping tail came out of nowhere, striking Harry from a blindspot with the force of a high speed traffic collision, breaking one of his wings as it curled around a pillar to slam into him, hurling him through the gloom as he suddenly could no longer dictate his aerial movement.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Even in her panicked state, even when she truncates callsigns, Hermione still remembers proper radio procedure. She's grown a little since her encounter with the troll; now, even as she panics, she manages to keep her wits about her.

Just to clarify, it's not that conventional firearms are actually causing the basilisk any real harm; it'd be like getting a couple splinters, and while they can be painful and uncomfortable, your physical well-being isn't particularly compromised by them, but if you can get away from the source of them, you're going to. A grenade to the face, though, is another matter; concussive force is concussive force.

I always intended for Hermione to follow a bit in Lockhart's footsteps, albeit without being a sexual predator; it's a first step in a slippery slope that will get her more closely aligned with Harry's ethics. Likewise, her discomfort with guns is intentional, as she's not meant to end up as muscle in the vein of Harry or Liv.

As for how she managed to perfect a spell Lockhart was only working on getting to work, Hermione's really good at research and putting things together from notes, plus she's obsessive enough to keep working the puzzle until she solves it. It's also meant to demonstrate that, just like how the Marauders generation had some really gifted and talented wizards and witches, so does Harry's generation, because, in the original series, Harry's entire generation comes off as fairly inept, and I didn't want this Harry to be the only person in this series who comes off as being on the same level as the preceding generation, even if a huge chunk of what he's managed is based on putting his nose to the grindstone and just working the problem until it's solved. I also want to point out that Harry and Hermione aren't going to be the only characters in the generation who come out looking stronger in this series; most of the major characters in this story will get boosted up a bit, though not all boosts will be on the magical side, and not all boosts will be equal.

I generally don't end chapters on cliffhangers, but it seemed appropriate here given the situation. If this was an episode of a TV show, I imagine it'd be right there that they'd cut to commercial, or a "To Be Continued...".

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	25. Ferryman

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 25: Ferryman**

* * *

Losing control of the Astral power in his body as he tumbled through the air, Harry felt it rush out of his nerves and into his muscles, organs and skin, filling them with magic.

He didn't feel the impact as he crashed into the wall, his body hardened against the blunt force trauma, and he slid down the stone and landed on his rear, feeling no worse for wear than after failing to dodge the attack the basilisk successfully landed.

Growling in pain, the shadowrunner rose unsteadily to his feet; he could feel the cracked ribs, a leg fracture and the onset of a concussion, familiar sensations from when his cousin used to beat him daily, and he battled the cobwebs at the edges of his consciousness, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he fought to stay awake and upright.

Then, adrenaline rushed through his body, and pain faded to the background.

It was time to rock and roll.

The basilisk was swinging its tail around in a looping blow once more, and the boy didn't have time to dodge.

The Hermetic mage quickly pushed Astral power through the trio of Celtic shield knots tattooed into his forearm. Instantly, three translucent black disks of pure magical force formed an inch from the back of his arm, stacked one after another. The first disk shattered into a thousand tiny pieces as it absorbed the brunt of the attack while the second disc cracked, before it and the disk closest to his arm dissipated a moment later as he flushed the Astral power from the tattoos to avoid accidentally injuring himself as the basilisk drew its tail back.

Having a broken wing felt indescribably weird; it took a moment, but he dissolved the magic that had grown them from his shoulders, and they melted back into his flesh.

From the corner of his eye, the boy saw the Beast of Slytherin coiling up, readying for another strike, mouth agape as it prepared to attack with its fangs.

His every muscle felt full of vitality and more powerful than they had ever been before in his life, his heart beating steadily despite the familiar sensation of adrenaline coursing through his veins, and the entire world felt like it was going a half-step slower than it was before.

The basilisk started to lunge forward, mouth open and fangs bared, and he just reacted, faster than he ever thought humanly possible; each step took him much further than ever before, and when he sprang off the ground, he found himself soaring through the air in a floating arc, giving him enough time to reach into his pocket and drew his monoknife, flipping it open with a practiced motion as he decided where to strike his target.

Dropping out of the air as his flip completed, the shadowrunner aimed the point of his knife at the basilisk's side, letting gravity do its work as the blade penetrated the basilisk's hide, dragging it downwards as he slid down the side of the serpent and pulling it free as he landed in a crouch.

The blade had sliced through the Beast of Slytherin's hide, and a bead of thick red blood oozed out of the wound in a thin line. Clearly, though, the monoknife was not going to create a wound channel large enough to incapacitate the creature; the blade just wasn't long enough.

He was off again before the basilisk could properly react to its new injury, darting swiftly away from the serpent as he sought a moment to regroup.

Somehow, he was faster, stronger and tougher than he had ever been.

The only change was now his muscles, organs and skin were saturated with Astral power.

Maybe that was the difference between being a normal person and an adept?

He didn't have time to think about it more, as he could see the basilisk turning, trying to reacquire him as a target.

In the moment, he realized _Dungeons & Dragons_ did not have basilisks.

It did, however, have three physical damage types: bludgeoning, piercing and slashing.

Piercing and slashing were clearly ineffective, so that left him with one option.

Flipping the monoknife closed, the shadowrunner dropped it casually into his pocket, sidestepping the lunging serpent and cocking his fist back. Swinging with full force, he ripped into the creature's body with a vicious, hooking elbow.

He felt flesh crush and bones crack as his forearm dug into basilisk's hide with enough force to stop it dead in its tracks and send it reeling backwards in true pain, and he quickly followed up with two more forearms into the creature's belly, each pulverizing flesh.

Then, he slipped away again, just out of the basilisk's reach.

At the edge of his peripheral vision, he saw the specter of Tom Riddle point the fallen girl's wand in his direction, and he immediately dropped to the ground, rolling out of the way of a neon red bolt that flew right through the space where his body had been a moment before.

With the specter joining the fray, the shadowrunner was suddenly at a numerical disadvantage, dodging strikes from the basilisk's fangs and tails along with spells slung by Tom Riddle, and though doing so wasn't physically difficult with his suddenly improved athletic abilities, it _was_ mentally demanding, requiring him to perceive every incoming threat and process it in a split moment before deciding how to respond and executing the strategy, all while in the chaos of combat.

He should have been run ragged by now, and yet, his breathing was not labored, his heartbeat had remained steady, and though he had been sweating, he did not feel even the beginnings of fatigue despite the adrenaline coursing through him and the extreme physical exertion he had sustained through in the past few minutes of intense action.

Still, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going at that level of activity, and he needed to even the odds.

Ducking, dodging and weaving through pillars for cover as he sprinted across the Chamber with the basilisk hot on his tail, feet pounding the stone below him and splashing water onto the legs of his trousers, the shadowrunner drew the Beretta 92FS from the holster inside his waistband, as the erratic movement he was engaging in made his rifle a subpar choice for the moment.

Time seemed to suddenly slow as he took aim, calmly drawing a bead on the wand in the specter's hand before carefully squeezing the trigger just once. He felt the pistol kick in his hands as the bullet flew out of the barrel and the slide slid back from recoil, ejecting the cartridge casing as it did so; he had forgotten to pass Astral power into the handgun.

In Riddle's hand, the Gryffindor's wand exploded into a rain splinters, and the Hermetic mage shoved his Beretta back into its holster as he cut a quick turn, using a pillar to shield himself against the Beast of Slytherin, whose tail slammed into the stone, shaking the entire Chamber as part of the snake motif shattered in a cascade of broken rocks.

He dodged the avalanche with an ease that surprised even himself, slipping just between the debris as it fell from up high; however, it turned out to be a trap, and the basilisk more cunning than he had given it credit for, as the Hermetic mage emerged out of the downpour of tumbling rocks to find himself face-to-face with the Beast of Slytherin, poised to strike with its mouth agape, its fangs dripping a transparent, yellow-tinted fluid that he could only guess was venom.

Raising his left arm and generating his shields, the shadowrunner braced himself to receive the attack, but it never came; instead, the serpent suddenly reeled as a grenade collided with the side of its head and exploded, raining down shrapnel in all directions, the boy's black shields protecting him from the falling metal fragments.

"Miss me?"

Harry quickly glanced in the direction the grenade and the voice came from and spotted the dragon-in-girl's-form, assault rifle in one hand.

"Are you limping?" asked the dragon, concerned masked by the jest in her demeanor. "I didn't think you'd cock it up this much."

"Buy me thirty seconds?" Harry asked, as the dragon's words reminded him of something he had once read in a book.

"I'll get you five minutes," Liv called back confidently.

Slinging her rifle onto her back, she darted towards the serpent as the shadowrunner made a break for it, taking cover behind a pillar, the dragon quickly closing the distance until she was close enough to engage the Beast of Slytherin in close-quarter combat, her first strike, a haymaker winged with the worst of intentions, landing with such force that it knocked the basilisk upwards and backwards. Before it could recover, she was in the air, twisting and flipping and landing lightly on her feet to continue her attack at another angle, landing a series of fast punches that made the creature reel and hiss.

Hidden behind stone, the Hermetic mage retrieved three test tubes from the pouches on his belt—mercury, gum arabic and smoke—and formed the _tattva mudra_ in inverse, palms downwards, thumbs resting against the base of his fingers, which he held together, pointing outwards from his body and towards the centerline.

"_Muto terram_, _creo vim_," he whispered, the incantation to this iteration of _polymorph any object_.

Astral power rushed through his nerves, filling one of the large chunks of stone that had fallen in the conflict as he touched it; just like in his mind's eye, it began to shift form, softening and growing feathery as it became a living creature.

The moment the rock-turned-bird realized it was alive, it opened its beak and crowed.

At the sound of the rooster's cry, the King of Serpents toppled over, stone dead.

"Well, that was an anticlimax," Liv said. "Why didn't you do that earlier?"

"I _was_ being chased by a basilisk," responded the Hermetic mage as exhaustion from casting the spell washed over him, sliding down the pillar onto the floor in a seated position, legs splayed outwards. "Also, I just remembered when you said 'cock'."

Slow applause echoed through the Chamber, and the two turned towards its source, the specter of Tom Riddle.

"So, you defeated the Beast of Slytherin," Riddle said. "Still, it makes no difference. Soon, I'll have consumed all of her soul, and then, I'll be whole again, and there's nothing a second-year student like you can do to stop me.

"It's a shame that I couldn't get her to say more about you."

"Not sure why you'd care about little old me," the Hermetic mage said, slowly getting back to his feet.

"Do tell me, how is it you managed to gain wings, and to summon that rooster?" Riddle asked.

"I'm filthy rich," the shadowrunner said, a half-truth. "I pretty much just buy the best gear I can afford, and magic wings were one of those things I thought might come in handy when I decided I was going to go basilisk hunting. As for the chicken, I had it in my bag, I just forgot about the blighter, with that damn snake chasing me."

"So, how is it that you, who have no discernable magical talent, managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort, with all his power, was destroyed?"

"I actually have no fragging clue, but everybody keeps asking me," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "What's it to you?"

"Voldemort is my past, present _and _future…"

"I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again?" the dragon suddenly interrupted.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," snarled the specter, irritated.

The Norwegian Ridgeback snapped her fingers in realization. "I get it now. It's an anagram."

"Of course it is," said the shadowrunner. "Care to enlighten me?"

"If you jumble up the letters in 'Tom Marvolo Riddle', you get 'I am Lord Voldemort'," revealed the dragon-in-girl's-form.

"Good job, Rook," the Hermetic mage praised. "Way to figure it out that fast."

"You know me, I love a puzzle," the Norwegian Ridgeback said, beaming. "It's too bad anagrams are just damn basic."

The shadowrunner turned his attention back towards the specter. "With those spells, what are you, a sixth year?"

"Fifth," said Riddle, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why?"

"You know, you're probably right," said the Boy-Who-Lived, as he surreptitiously winked at the dragon-in-girl's-form. "Not only are you a fifth-year, you also managed to create a soul-sucking magic diary, while I'm a second-year can't use any magic, and she's a first year, so I'm not sure what we could do to stop you after you come back to life."

"That's right," the dragon agreed, guessing her dad's intentions. "I mean, we might have guns, but that's got nothing on magic."

"So, maybe you could answer a few questions, just to indulge our curiosity while you finish sucking out that girl's soul, then come back to life and kill us both," said the Hermetic mage.

"I suppose a couple questions couldn't hurt," said the specter agreeably, clearly flattered.

"I'm kind of curious, how _does_ one breed basilisks? All I could find on the subject was that breeding basilisks was banned, but nothing on the methodology."

"That one's simple," said Riddle. "You simply need to hatch a chicken's egg under a toad."

"Is that any old chicken egg, or does it need to be fertilized first?" Liv asked.

"I don't know," said the specter, looking thoughtful. "You know, I don't think it's ever been specified before."

"That's a shame," said the Hermetic mage, looking genuinely disappointed, before his expression suddenly became curious again. "How many people have you killed?"

"I had the Beast of Slytherin slay Myrtle Warren," Riddle proclaimed.

"That's it?" asked the dragon, looking surprised.

"What do you mean?" the specter demanded.

The Hermetic mage and the Norwegian Ridgeback shared a look; then, they started to chuckle.

"What are you laughing about?" Riddle demanded angrily, unsettled.

"We thought we were talking to a real, legitimate hard case, but you're just a poseur," said the shadowrunner, the mirth suddenly gone as his eyes hardened, stalking forward and flexing the fingers on his left hand. "I'm what's known in the biz as a 'ferryman'; I've dropped so many bodies, I don't even keep count anymore.

"That's why it's easy for me to do this."

Electricity crackled along the skin of the Hermetic mage's left hand as he channeled Astral power into the tattoo at the heel of his palm, electricity suddenly arcing around his hand and up and down his arm. He reached down, pressing his hand directly over the left side of the unconscious girl's back, and under his touch, she convulsed violently, then suddenly jerked stiff and ramrod straight, before once more going completely limp.

"What have you done?!" screeched the specter, horrified.

"What you couldn't imagine I could," answered the shadowrunner simply.

"No!" Tom Riddle screamed, as his outline dimmed, slowly dissolving away into nothing.

"All right, we got less than six minutes before she starts suffering brain damage, if I haven't already fried her brain," said the self-described ferryman, as he rolled the motionless girl over and started chest compressions. "Can you do something about the diary? Maybe melt it?"

"I could try, but it would probably take a very long time," the dragon said, as she examined the book in question, turning it over in her hands. "It's got more layers of magic on it than I've ever seen on any magical item before, and some of them look like they might even be trapped, so I'd have to be extra careful with it."

"We'll deal with it another time, then," said the Boy-Who-Lived, coming up for air after exhaling directly into the motionless Gryffindor's mouth. "Get the five-minute epoxy and be quick about it; we'll glue the fucking thing shut so no one can open it ever again. And get me some epinephrine while you're down there."

The dragon disappeared into the boy's haversack, returning a moment later with a syringe of clear liquid she tossed the boy—who caught it with one hand—and two jars, which she quickly poured contents of into a half-size hotel pan, mixing them together before smearing the concoction onto the pages of the diary with vinyl gloves on. Once she finished, she sat down on the diary, stripping the gloves from her hands—turning them inside out as she did so—and placing the first two fingers on one hand on the fallen girl's neck, feeling for a heartbeat.

"C'mon," growled the Hermetic mage, as he tore open the flame-haired girl's blouse and jabbed the needle into her chest, injecting the contents directly into her heart before resuming chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on the Gryffindor.

A long silence followed as the Hermetic mage continued to work on the unconscious Gryffindor.

Then, suddenly:

"Got a pulse," the dragon announced. "Erratic, though."

"I'm going to try and shock her back into rhythm," said the Boy-Who-Lived. "Be ready with the _mend wounds_."

"Wilco," Liv said, pulling her hand back.

Electricity crackled, then again met skin; once the Hermetic mage pulled back, the dragon checked for a pulse again, nodding before waving a hand over the unconscious girl.

With a sharp intake of breath, the ginger's eyes snapped open, then she sat bolt upright—the needle falling out of her chest—eyes wide in terror as she frantically looked around, her breathing shallow and ragged.

"Where am I?" she gasped, voice shaking in panic. "I thought I died!"

"You _did_ die," said the shadowrunner matter-of-factly. "We brought you back."

"What?" the Gryffindor asked, confused, then seemed to realize something and pulled her torn blouse close over her exposed chest. "And why is my blouse torn open? Why am I bleeding?"

"You were clinically dead for about four minutes," the Boy-Who-Lived explained. "Heart stopped, no breathing, the works. We used CPR along with an adrenaline shot straight to your heart to bring you back to life. You got lucky; I've heard only about fifteen percent of people whose hearts stop are successfully brought back to life, and even then, I wouldn't count my blessings yet, because epi can cause brain damage even if it does restart your cardiovascular system."

"Why do I feel so cold and empty inside?" she asked.

"That would probably be from having part of your soul eaten by Tom Riddle," said the dragon.

"You might know him better as 'You-Know-Who', or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'," added the Hermetic mage.

"Tom… Tom was You-Know-Who?" gasped the girl, horrified. "But, but, I thought he was my friend… I told him so much!"

"And all while you were doing that, he was siphoning off your soul, a little bit at a time," Liv said.

"That's horrible," the redhead said. Then, "Where's the diary?"

"We epoxied the fucker shut, so it'll never open again," Harry said. "All those protections against magic, and all it took to deal with it was just a bit of glue."

"And duct tape," said the dragon, as she wrapped the diary in matte silver adhesive tape.

"We're keeping the diary, though; consider it payment for saving your life."

"I don't want it anymore," the redhead said, trying to stand, but wobbled from side-to-side and promptly sat back down. "I don't feel so good," she whimpered, laying down and curling up into the fetal position. "Everything inside hurts."

Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion washed over the Hermetic mage as he felt the adrenaline coursing through him dump out of his system; teetering on his feet, the blackness at the edge of his vision, which he had pushed aside with gritted teeth in the preceding fight with the Beast of Slytherin, rapidly rushed inwards on his sight.

"Well, fuck," the ferryman managed as felt his consciousness rapidly fade.

Then, he toppled over, head bouncing off the ungiving stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets.

The Norwegian Ridgeback checked her unconscious dad; his breathing and heartbeat were steady, so his health was in no immediate danger, and she had other priorities to worry about.

What really worried her, though, was the glowing red light in the abdomen of the redhead curled up in a ball, whimpering and shivering; even though it was weak, dark tendrils she could not identify had begun to intertwine with it.

That was a problem for another time; right now, she needed to secure the basilisk carcass, remove the memory of the basilisk carcass from the redhead's mind with the magic she had just seen Hermione Granger use earlier on Penelope Clearwater, and transport herself, the redhead and her dad out of the Chamber of Secrets and back into Hogwarts proper.

It was in her hurry to achieve all these things she forgot one small detail, even if it was of no great import.

And that's how the Chamber of Secrets briefly became home to the cock that slew the Beast of Slytherin.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** The primary reason why I ended the previous chapter on a cliffhanger was because it led directly from Harry being just human to being superhuman, which itself is a bit of a genre shift, and I felt a new chapter was appropriate for that reason.

Sometimes, when you can't figure something out, it takes a happy accident to make it happen. Given how Harry usually is able to figure things out on his own, I wanted at least one incident of him discovering something to be be accidental.

Liv telling Harry she could buy him five minutes is completely in-character for a creature that's been an apex predator the entire time she's been alive, and it wasn't like she was wrong.

This was the way Harry would have wanted it, since it would leave the least physical damage on what he's trying to harvest, but he's not perfect, and honestly, it'd be hugely anti-climatic if the final battle of _Physical Adept_ was him walking into the Chamber of Secrets, pulling a rooster out of his bag and forcing it to crow after what was a somewhat suspenseful hunt.

It'd make sense a super-genius like Liv would almost instantly figure out Tom's secret identity, and I feel like her undercutting Tom revealing his secret really sets the tone for the rest of the interaction.

Harry drawing Liv in to pull a fast one on Tom is a situation where he knows he has the upper hand but he also knows his opponent thinks they have it themselves, so it's a great way to gather a little intelligence before finishing it all off, all running a very, very short con.

"Ferryman" is slang taken from _Cyberpunk 2020_, used to describe an expert killer, and is derived from Charon ferrying the dead across the River Styx.

For Harry, ending Ginny's life was always going to be an easy decision; she wasn't somebody he knew, so all she would have been was collateral damage in a war against an enemy who probably still outclasses him in certain aspects. That said, he's still ultimately sympathizes with victims, so since he had the chance to try to bring her back to life, he was going to try it, but if she didn't make it, he wouldn't have felt any remorse. Not to mention saving her life pretty would make her feel indebted to him.

Having only a part of a soul when she comes back to life is a really interesting angle for Ginny's character to take.

I like mundane solutions for magical problems. Also, epoxy and duct tape are awesome, and even if it doesn't "solve" the diary problem, it at least puts it on hold for until they can deal with it properly.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	26. Adeptness

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 26: Adeptness**

* * *

It was awkward.

Harry didn't enjoy being hugged by one person, let alone three people at once, but he found himself enfolded in the collective arms of Dia, Hermione and Liv almost immediately after he regained his senses.

"I can't do this anymore," said the Ravenclaw, as she let go of the Hermetic mage.

"Do what?" he asked, getting to his feet as the others released him as well.

"I can't just keep letting you step in to protect me," she said, her expression determined. "I need to learn to protect myself better than I can now."

"We practice self-defense first thing every morning," Dia volunteered. "You could join us."

"I think I'd like that," Hermione said.

"I thought you might," the blonde said. "It's at six in the morning."

"I'll be there."

"Where's the ginger?" Harry asked, as he looked around. Like last year, he was in an abandoned classroom. "And what about the wall?"

"Medical wing," Liv said. "I wiped away any memory she had of the basilisk's carcass with the spell Hermione used earlier on Clearwater, but not of what we told her about Riddle, so she knows about him and the diary. It was a bit tricky, but I managed.

"As for the wall, that was nothing a powered-up _mending_ couldn't handle."

"Riddle?" Hermione interjected.

"You-Know-Who," Harry said. "His given name is Tom Riddle, which is what we're going to call him because he gave himself the name 'Voldemort' to create a sense of mysticism, and that's exactly what we're going to strip him of."

"How?" asked the Ravenclaw.

"No idea yet, but that's what research is for. I think I might tap Rita for this; it could lead to the kind of hit piece that could really make her bones."

Pausing, he checked his wristwatch; as far as he could tell, he had been unconscious for only a little less than an hour, a much better recovery time than after the previous year's incident.

"Have you shown her the basilisk?" Harry asked, and the dragon shook her head.

"You got it?" Hermione asked in awe.

"All I did was transfigure some rubble into a rooster, and then it keeled over," Harry said.

"It was an anticlimax," Liv said, echoing her previous sentiment. "I was having so much fun just having a fistfight with it."

"You had a fistfight with the Beast of Slytherin?" the bushy-haired girl repeated, incredulous.

"It wasn't anything special when you take away its death stare and extremely virulent poison," said the Norwegian Ridgeback with a shrug. "Just a really big snake."

"Those are the things that make it dangerous!" Hermione protested.

"We're all immune to those things," Luna said sweetly. "Ribbons, remember?"

"Big teeth too," Liv continued.

"Are you immune to those?" the Ravenclaw asked pointedly.

"Don't know. I was too fast for it to catch me.

"Speaking of fast, you were faster too, Bear," observed the dragon-in-girl's-form. "What was that?"

"Must be the Astral power that got injected into my muscles after I lost control of it when the damn thing hit me," the Hufflepuff said.

"That would explain the glow," Liv said.

"Am I glowing now?"

"It stopped when you passed out. How's your head? You hit it pretty hard on the way down."

"Stings a little, but I've had worse. Did you run _mend wounds_ on me while I was out? It doesn't feel like my ribs are cracked anymore."

"Figured you might need it."

"I did," Harry agreed. "Now watch me."

The Hermetic mage drew Astral power into himself, but rather than channel it through his nerves and try to form a spell with it, he instead slowly and carefully infused it into the muscles in his legs bit by bit, feeling them surge with energy and strength.

"You're glowing again," Liv observed. "Specifically, your legs."

The boy bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, feeling loose and agile; cautiously, he pushed off the floor with just his toes, and found himself lifting a good foot off the floor.

He channeled Astral power into his right index finger, muscle, bone, ligaments and skin alike, placed his hand down on the table, then lightly tapped the surface with the finger.

The wood splintered under the impact.

He pushed Astral power into the rest of his muscles, bones, ligaments and skin, then into his heart and lungs, and immediately felt his heartbeat slow as he felt himself becoming more alert and his muscular fatigue melted away. It must have been the blood oxygenating his muscles.

Checking his watch, he started to hold his breath, holding up a finger as a gesture to hold on as Hermione started to try to talk to him.

It was fifteen minutes before he finally let out the breath; in the intervening time, Liv and Luna had engaged in a game of slap jack, with the blonde trying to slap the dragon's hands and failing absolutely miserably.

"What were you doing?" Hermione demanded impatiently, as the boy finally lowered the finger.

"Seeing how long I can hold my breath without hyperventilating first."

"Why?"

"Apparently, I get improved performance when I infuse my body with Astral power."

"Really?" Luna asked, eyes widening momentarily.

A moment later, she managed to just brush the back of the Norwegian Ridgebacks's left hand as the dragon yanked it back.

"Beautiful," Liv whispered, almost in awe.

"Thank you," agreed Luna, favoring the dragon with a soft smile.

Liv blinked in surprise. "Did I say that out loud?" she asked.

"You did."

Harry had no idea what Liv was talking about; as far as his eyes could see, nothing was different about Dia.

Then, he remembered the dragon's Astral perception.

Maybe he could mimic that too.

Without thinking twice, the Hermetic mage drew Astral power into himself, and like he had done so before with his heart and lungs, he infused it into his eyes.

He nearly went blind in an instant.

"Fuckin' hell," the ferryman growled, shutting his eyes and covering them with both hands all at once; even then, afterimages of pure bright seared into his retinas like he had just looked directly into the sun, slowly fading back into the dark of his eyelids as the seconds crawled by.

Cautiously, the Hermetic mage slowly peered out from behind barely-cracked eyelids, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden change in brightness before slowly opening them fully.

The entire room glowed a bright white; in the foreground, the dragon was wrapped in a pulsing dragon's-head-shaped silhouette the color of fresh blood, and facing her, the blonde was enveloped with a soft golden glow—made up of butterflies and songbirds—that swirled around her body while a luminous ember the color of cherry blossoms glimmered in her abdomen.

Looking down upon himself, the shadowrunner saw an ebon mist slowly waft off his person, enfolding him in itself like a comfortable coat. He could just make out a pinprick of shimmering emerald light at his navel, but that was tightly enshrouded in black mist and almost impossible to make out.

Finally, he looked over at Hermione, and all he saw there was a beacon of sarcoline in her midsection.

Releasing the Astral power from his eyes, the Hermetic mage watched as the magical signatures faded from his sight, returning the world to its original, less oddly-colored appearance.

**~ooOoo~**

All it took was Susan Bones punching her hard enough in the nose to draw blood for Hermione Granger to decide that wasn't the kind of self-defense she wanted to learn.

With the Ravenclaw's departure and the two Hufflepuff girls busy training with one another, the Hermetic mage finally had the opportunity to test out his enhancements against the dragon. Channeling Astral power, he carefully infused it into his body, making sure to thoroughly steep his muscles, bones, ligaments, nerves, organs and skin in it before the sparring session began.

As always, it started with a nod; then, the dragon was coming inside at full speed, crossing the distance in three quick steps, fists flying in a flurry of jabs, hooks and uppercuts.

Body full of energy and bursting with power, the shadowrunner saw the punches coming as soon as the Norwegian Ridgeback began to throw them and reacted faster than he thought humanly possible, slipping just out of the way of each right before the moment impact, feeling the air rush past him as each swing missed by just a hair. With each bob and weave, he slipped towards the dragon, who backed up, trying to maintain the distance between herself and the Hermetic mage, but he was closing fast.

With not much space left to maneuver, the dragon suddenly stopped throwing punches and charged into grappling range, wrapping both arms under the boy's arms and around chest, lifting him up easily and driving him to the ground; as they tumbled down, Harry pulled guard, his legs wrapping around the dragon-in-girl's-form's waist as they hit the dirt and grass, barely feeling the collision as the two landed in a pile.

Knowing Liv's penchant for ground-and-pound, the ferryman quickly slipped between the punches she threw at his face by moving his head out of the way, then quickly unhooked his legs the moment saw her begin to throw a slicing elbow, shifting to the side and shoving the entire arm as the attack came across, throwing the dragon off balance and spinning her around; in an instant, he was out from under her and grapevined both legs around one of hers, sliding to her side and pinning one arm under his body as he wrapped one arm around the side of her face in a headlock, twisting her head one way and her body in another.

"Tap! Tap! Tap!" shouted the dragon-in-girl's-form, tapping Harry three times on the forearm in quick succession, and the shadowrunner immediately released the submission hold, pushing Liv off him before rolling away and back to his feet.

"That's a first," he remarked, and the dragon nodded. "Any difference?"

"You're stronger than before, too, but not stronger than me," Liv observed, considering what had just transpired between herself and the Hermetic mage. "I'm pretty sure I could beat you in arm wrestling or a foot race, but your agility might be a hair better than anything I can manage. I'm actually kind of surprised you didn't even seem to notice when I slammed you down, because I'm pretty sure I did that pretty hard; I'm guess that means you're harder to hurt now too.

"First time you've ever beaten me, though; so congratulations on that."

"Thank you," said the shadowrunner. "Again?"

"It won't happen again; I won't underestimate you this time."

"I've got more tricks up my sleeve."

"You say that, but every time you show me a new trick, you're just teaching it to me."

"Then I better come up with something you can't even copy."

"Good luck with that."

Grinning at each other predatorily, the two circled slowly, the shadowrunner with his right side forward to present a narrow profile towards the dragon, the Norwegian Ridgeback with her hands up in a traditional boxing posture.

Suddenly, the dragon stepped backwards, raising her left foot off the ground as she assumed a _gongfu_ stance, balancing on her other as she beckoned Harry with one hand.

The Hermetic mage considered the dragon's fighting stance for a moment, then pulled the Beretta from his waistband, firing as soon as he got it out of its holster and on target.

"Gun!" Luna shouted, tackling Susan to the ground without even thinking about a counterattack as she heard the action of the pistol in the shadowrunner's hand cycle twice in rapid succession.

Liv toppled over onto her back as the shots slammed into her chest, flattening on impact as it transferred its entire force into her body without penetrating skin. Growling, she sat up, then was promptly knocked over again as the shadowrunner fired two more bullets into her body.

"Ugh," she groaned, then suddenly lifted up both knees to her chest, drawing a Walther PPK out of the holster on each boot and quickly firing back.

Before the dragon had drawn a bead on him, the shadowrunner was already moving; seeing the draw before the subcompact handguns had even left their holsters, he anticipated where the two weapons would be aimed and started to get out of the path of both barrels, managing to dart out of the way of one before the Norwegian Ridgeback started squeezing the triggers.

Instantly, the translucent black shield appeared an inch from the back of the Hermetic mage's left arm and the one bullet that was on target clanged off it; in that moment, the Norwegian Ridgeback was back on her feet, charging forward with guns blazing in an alternating fashion, forcing the ferryman onto the defensive until her ammunition ran dry, but by that time, she was already within hand-to-hand combat range and had dropped her pistols.

As the two girls watched in awe, the dragon ducked under the shadowrunner's gun arm and immediately bent it along the elbow, trying to force the gun in the direction of the boy's face, but he released the weapon before it even got close to his head, spinning under the dragon's hand and catching the free-falling pistol with his other one before it even hit the floor, forcing her to flip sideways and out of the way of the barrel before kicking it up out of his hand and snatching it up with her free one, letting go of boy and stepping back, leveling the pistol at him, though he was already off line before she could even get the sights on him, ducking into her personal space and then suddenly slipping to the outside, shoving his forearm up against the wrist of her gun hand and grabbing the weapon by its slide, pushing it backwards enough to prevent it from firing as he twisted the gun along the axis of her wrist, wrenching the pistol from her hands as her hand bent away from her body.

Before he could even disengage from close combat, Liv was already pushing the weapon's barrel away from her body, trying the yank the weapon from his hands with pure brute force; realizing he could not match her strength, the boy quickly thumbed the magazine release, letting the bullets drop to the ground as he let the dragon have the weapon, bringing his shield to bear in front of him as she pulled the trigger, firing the last bullet in the chamber into the black barrier.

"You're empty," said the shadowrunner, as the dragon pulled the trigger again.

"That was pretty cool," Luna said from where she and Susan were laying in the grass and dirt, and the older girl silently nodded in agreement.

"You react faster than before," Liv noted, turning the pistol around and handing it back, grip first. "Maybe faster than even me, which means faster than any human alive. You're not going to be dodging bullets, but if you see somebody coming, you can definitely get out of the way of the barrel before they've even got a bead on you, which might as well be the same thing.

"We should check your coordination sometime too; it might be up there with things that've improved since you became a physical adept."

"Is that what I am now?" the Hermetic mage asked.

"As long as you're infusing yourself with Astral power, it looks that way," said the dragon. "Certainly a nice trick to have; as important as good skill and technique are, having better raw physicals is much more important."

"When we get back, I'm definitely going to test my limits at the facility," said the physical adept. "Definitely will want to know where my limits are."

**~ooOoo~**

"Hey, Tolly. Sit."

Harry blinked. It was unlike Luna to just bark orders at him, but from the way she was gesturing at the chair, she clearly wanted him to sit in it.

"What for?" he asked, more cautious than curious.

"I want to try something," she said.

"How long will it take?"

"A couple hours."

"I'm going to need a book for this, aren't I?"

"It'll help pass the time."

"All right."

"And sit very, very still."

"Fine."

It took three hours, during which the Hermetic mage finally took the time to start and finish _Snow Crash_, a novel he had wanted to read for pleasure but never had time to do so with his busy, self-appointed schedule.

"Here," said the blonde, as she finally turned the sketchpad she had been drawing on for the previous quarter of the day towards the boy.

The shadowrunner could only gawk at the picture in front of him, a portrait of him, sitting on the chair, reading a book, in full color. A closer examination showed it had been drawn completely in color pencil, but from even an arm's length, it might as well have been a photograph, so fine and accurate were the details.

"That's amazing," Harry said. "It looks just like me. I can't believe you only needed a couple hours to do it; I think most artists would need a couple days for it at least."

"You always say I'm a natural, don't you?" Luna said with a wide smile.

"I do."

"Guess I'm a natural at being an adept too. An _artistic_ adept."

"Must be it."

"I kind of wish you hadn't had to kill the basilisk, though; it was so cute. I wish I could have made it a pet or something…"

The shadowrunner smiled faintly, and the blonde caught it.

"What are you not saying?" she asked.

"Let's just say, we should get some toads and some chicken eggs."

"Is that how basilisks are made?"

"What if I told you 'yes'?"

"Then I'd say, 'Cool, let's hatch some basilisks!'."

"All right, but you can _only_ keep one; the rest are going to be for materials."

"Okay. But I get to pick which one."

"Fine. But you'll have to take care of it all on your own, train it and everything."

"Deal!"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hermione's realization is meant to be a galvanizing catalyst for her; that said, she's also not the physically confrontational type either, so she's going to have to look into figuring out methods of her own.

Harry's slow discovery and exploration of what it means to become adept was something interesting to write; it's like he discovered magic for the first time again, except this time, it's a completely different form of magic. I also wanted to compare what Harry experienced with what Liv observed.

If it's not already made clear by what Harry perceives through "Astral perception", Hermione does not use external (Astral) magic, which is why she has no Astral aura the way he, Luna and Liv do, whereas Liv doesn't have a magical core, hence why she doesn't have a "beacon" of internal magic within her. His own perception of his own core also further gives a hint as to why he can't use wand magic. And yes, I'm aware that the idea of a magical "core" is a fanon trope, one that's not necessarily well-liked, but it's really kind of necessary to this story, where there are many, many paradigms of magic that draw on internal and external sources of magic to power the effects spellcasters want to generate.

Luna pulling "artistic adept" out of her ass is meant to showcase how what Harry does isn't unique to him; even though she calls herself an "artistic adept", she's really just another version of an adept with a slightly different (social) focus than Harry. It's also closer to what an adept is in _Shadowrun 5th Edition_, but as always, rules and common sense don't always apply to her; she likes art and interacting with people, so her version of what an adept's powers are is geared towards her interests.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe.


	27. Götterdämmerung

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 27: Götterdämmerung**

* * *

It wasn't the real basilisk's head—Liv had manufactured a passable facsimile by duplicating the original corpse with her version of the Hermetic mage's _polymorph any object_ spell, then used a sword she had taken from a suit of armor in one of the castle's many corridors and refined to a monoedge to decapitate it—that he pinned to the wall outside the Great Hall with a different sword during normal dinner hour, but the spray paint was real enough, and he tagged the wall just under the head in big, bold, stylized letters, all while under the effects of _improved invisibility_, both the _Dungeons & Dragons _and the _Shadowrun_ varieties.

_CHAMBER'S CLOSED, YOU LAZY MUPPETS._

He didn't hang around for the response, but from what Liv and Dia related later that night, he gathered the reactions had been spectacular; the professors were in an uproar at the sight of the faux basilisk head, the students were in an uproar at being called 'lazy muppets', and practically everybody was in an uproar about the Chamber of Secrets being real and home to a the King of Serpents, which was now apparently dead.

It was briefly suggested (rightfully) that Harry was the culprit because he wasn't present, but then the suggestion was laughed out of the Great Hall when somebody else pointed out that the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't use magic at all and the Invisibility Cloak was in the possession of a fifth year Hufflepuff who hadn't returned it after a prank on Gryffindor.

Dumbledore had demanded that whoever had slain the Beast of Slytherin surrender the rest of the carcass, as, being a creation of one of Hogwarts' founders, it was the property of the school; the shadowrunner, however, had no intention of complying. After all, he and his team were the ones who had put in the work and taken all of the risk, so there was no way he would hand over the rewards of the run to one of the people conspiring against him.

Still, Liv nonetheless dropped off the remainder of the simulacrum in the Great Hall the following morning well before sunrise, but being a well-made forgery and not the real thing, it was essentially worthless, yet still enough to force the bearded headmaster's hand and silence him on the matter.

Almost immediately, the Hermetic mage noticed the number of Ribbons worn in the halls of Hogwarts begin to dwindle, going from commonplace to merely an oddity within just a few days, almost like the students collectively felt safe from harm and felt no need to take preventive measures to protect themselves.

In a sense, the headmaster had been right, but then again, even a broken clock is right twice a day.

Unless it's a digital clock, in which case, it's just busted.

**~ooOoo~**

The rest of the term was uneventful, though that could really have described anything after the incident in the Chamber of Secrets. The shadowrunner kept busy in the weeks leading up to the end-of-term exams with independent study, physical training, combat drills, cooking, cleaning, research and development, and revising for the exams.

By the time the results of the exams were posted during the second week of June, Harry was glad the trunk he purchased for storing the basilisk carcass had been enchanted to preserve whatever was kept in it indefinitely, a dweomer he had paid extra for; while he certainly could try to dismantle the Beast of Slytherin himself, he wasn't sure how much of it he would end up wasting with his unskilled work, and thus decided to wait until after the school year had ended to find an expert for the job.

As expected, the Hermetic mage once again received Poors in Charms and Transfiguration, but his mark in Flying had risen to a Poor as well. Unfortunately, his time spent on his other ventures had taken a toll on the rest of his coursework, all which fell to Exceed Expectations from the previous year's Outstandings.

Liv, despite her genius, earned nothing but Acceptables in everything except Flying, a result of her refusal to even touch a homework assignment, which she called "busywork", and the way she frequently ignored instructions; in her own words, she was being punished with her refusal to comply with the unnecessary, the pointless and the useless, all of which she oft attributed to the school's teaching staff. In Flying, the dragon received an Outstanding, to nobody's surprise.

Luna, on the other hand, worked hard and did all of her homework, even investing time in revising with Hermione, bringing Susan along to make sure she wasn't falling behind in her schoolwork, and earned Exceeds Expectations across the board.

Susan Bones, despite what had happened on Valentine's Day, rebounded following a few months where her schoolwork suffered, managing Acceptable marks in each of her classes, though her professors—save for Sprout—made no secret how they thought she could and should be doing better, their ignorance of the incident obvious.

**~ooOoo~**

With the end-of-term marks in the books, there were no more lessons, leaving the students at Hogwarts with just over a week to themselves before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to take them home. Still, for certain students, there were still academic matters that concerned them, and it was about this that Hermione had sought Harry for advice.

"Do you remember during the Easter holidays, when we decided on our additional classes for next year?" the Ravenclaw asked the Hufflepuff.

Once again, the two were in an abandoned classroom, as was customary for them, and this time, the Hermetic mage was drawing diagrams and making notes as he went between several books on relative space.

"If I recall correctly, you wanted to take everything," Harry said, without looking up from his work, eyes going from books to notes to diagrams and back.

"I did," the bushy-haired girl agreed.

"What about it?"

"Professor Flitwick offered me the use of a time-turner so I could get to all of the lessons," Hermione said.

"The fuck's a 'time-turner'?" asked the Hermetic mage.

"It's an artefact used to travel back in time," the Ravenclaw explained.

"Well, that sounds like an uncommonly bad idea if I ever heard one," said the tattooed boy, shaking his head in disgust.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Time travel is just a terrible idea all around," said the boy. "There's a bunch of theories on how it would work, and I just don't see any of them ending well."

"Humor me?"

"Well, there's the theory that, if you go back in time, anything, and I mean _anything_, you do will alter the future in such a way that'll make it unrecognizable, in essense erasing the future you came from, and thereby erasing yourself from existence, since you can't go back in time from a future that no longer exists, making it just a really elaborate form of suicide.

"But I'd only be using it to get to my lessons," the Ravenclaw protested.

"Doesn't matter," said the Hermetic mage. "In the original timeline, you wouldn't have been in those lessons, so by virtue of being at those lessons, you've changed the future, which is your past, so the version of the timeline you traveled back in time from would no longer exist, meaning you'd also no longer exist."

"That's a disturbing thought, but it can't be true, since time-turners exist, so somebody must have invented them and tested them, then lived to tell about it," reasoned the Ravenclaw.

"Fair enough," Harry said, with a shrug. "How about the diverging timelines theory?"

"'Diverging timelines'?" Hermione asked.

"The theory that, every time somebody travels back in time, they're creating a separating reality from the moment they leave, so the timeline they left continues on without them, and the point in time they return to is a completely different version of the universe," explained the adept.

"So you're saying, if I use the time-turner, I could be leaving behind a world without me that'll keep going on, and it'll be like I just disappeared into thin air?" she asked, seeking confirmation.

"Yes."

"I'd be leaving my family behind?"

"Yes."

"And you?"

"If you do it, I'm coming with."

"But you said it was a terrible idea."

"And you think I'd let my best friend jump into that all by herself?"

"I'm not some damsel who needs to be rescued!"

"Oh, I'm going because I'd have things I could use the extra time for."

"What about Liv and Luna?"

"We'll bring them with."

"But wouldn't it be dangerous to show Liv this kind of magic? She'd be able to copy it at will."

"So, I ask her nicely not to, and then explain why she shouldn't. Although I don't expect that'll do much, since she'll do whatever she wants to regardless.

"Of course, this all predicates on you doing something this stupid."

"If I do it and you do it with me, what does that make you?"

"Even more stupid, but hey, I'm a Hufflepuff, and we loyal."

"That's good and all, but I still haven't decided if I'm going to do this yet."

"Well, make up your mind, then. I would advise against it, but I know you're going to choose to do what you want to regardless of what I say, so I want you to know, whatever you choose, I'll support your decision one hundred percent."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Null sweat, Danger.

"You do realize there's an easier way to do this besides time travel, though, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"There's two of us, right?"

"Right?"

"Between the two of us, we can cover the classes, no problem; I can get a camcorder and record the lessons you're not at, and then you can watch them back later, when you have time, and take your own notes."

"But Muggle Studies, Arithmancy and Divination are all at the same time!" Hermione protested.

"So, we bring in a third," Harry said. "I'm in Arithmancy, and I think Wildfire said she's taking Muggle Studies; we can ask her to record it and see if she'll be willing to? If she isn't, I'll ask around Hufflepuff and see if anybody's willing to do it for pay."

"What if I have questions?"

"That's what office hours are for?"

"I need to think about this."

"You do that, Danger."

"Why didn't I think of this?"

"Like I keep telling you, you lack imagination; once you're presented with a solution, you don't really go looking for alternate ones."

"I need to get better at that."

"I'm sure you will."

**~ooOoo~**

And thus, the term ended not with a bang but a whimper. While his fellow second-year students worried whether they would be able to have their permission slips, which would allow them to visit Hogsmeade during a few times each term, signed by their parents, it was one more thing Harry did not have to worry about as an emancipated minor, as he simply had to sign the form himself and was then done with it.

Unlike the previous year, where he had to search the train to find the compartment for the trip home, all it took this year was a short conversation over the two-way radios. In the end, it was the Gryffindors who managed to locate an unoccupied berth, and once they staked their claim on it for the trip, it was only a matter of minutes before the rest of the circle of friends converged on it, piling into the compartment until the six of them had crammed into it.

"It's a little cramp in here with all of us, isn't it?" Fay remarked, as she unwrapped a large box of chocolate cupcakes she had taken out of her trunk.

Her mouth full of food, Liv raised a finger, as if asking the others to give her a few seconds; her brow furrowed for a moment, then she crossed her forearms, palms facing outwards, fingers spread wide and slightly clawed, pushing outwards in one quick gesture.

Suddenly, the inside of the compartment expanded rapidly outwards, throwing its occupants against the wall until it finally came to a stop when it reached the size of the dormitory room the dragon shared with her sister and the Hermetic mage.

"How did you do that?" Fay asked, eyes wide in awe.

Quickly, the dragon-in-girl's-form swallowed the cake she was eating. "Just copied the enchantment on all of our luggage," she said with a shrug.

"You can do that?" asked the Gryffindor girl, incredulous.

"She can do anything she damn well pleases," said the shadowrunner with a shrug as the dragon plopped down into a seat. "I don't think reality itself cares to try and stop her."

"I'll be right back," Luna suddenly announced, before bouncing out of the compartment.

"Take care of yourself," Liv called after her, her nose already buried in her Game Boy.

"Where's she going?" Hermione asked, concerned.

The Hermetic mage shrugged. "Eh…"

"Aren't you worried about her?" asked the Ravenclaw.

"She'll be fine," Harry said. "She's well-trained, and she's packing."

"Packing?"

The question went unanswered as Neville lit a spliff, and the Ravenclaw's attention turned towards him.

"You shouldn't do that," she said. "Smoking is a filthy habit."

The Gryffindor boy shrugged, offering her the marijuana cigarette. "You want a puff?"

"What? No!"

"Your loss," Neville said, shrugging again before taking a long draw from the joint and passing it to Fay.

"You really should stop," said the girl with the pastel purple hair as she took the cigarette from her fellow Gryffindor.

"You too, Fay?" Neville asked, frowning. "You're the last person I'd expect to disapprove."

"I wouldn't, if you weren't forgetting things," Fay said, concern clear in her voice.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Look at your Remembrall."

The Gryffindor did as his friend suggested, his eyes lost in the swirling red mist in the orb once he took it out of his pocket.

"You're forgetting things and just not remembering them again," Fay said gently.

"What does that matter?"

"Harry, back me up here."

"I got nothing."

"Oh, come on! You're the one who supplied this stuff in the first place!"

"Yeah, but I didn't know he'd turn into a chimney!"

"Well, then, fix it!"

"Who do I look like, Mary Poppins?"

"Who's 'Mary Poppins'?" interjected the Gryffindor boy, interrupting the argument.

"Doesn't matter," said the dragon dismissively, gently putting her hand on the pureblood boy's shoulder and getting him to turn his head towards her. "Mind if I look around in your head?"

"Knock yourself out," Neville said casually, turning away again to stare into his Remembrall.

Quickly, the dragon snapped her fingers twice, getting Gryffindor boy's attention once more; the moment their eyes met, they both froze, and it took a moment for everybody else in the compartment except the Hermetic mage, who understood what was happening immediately, to realize something was going on.

"What is she doing?" Fay asked Harry, who was watching what was happening with interest.

"This is amazing," remarked the Hermetic mage. "I mean, I guess you can't see all these pretty lights and colors, but let me tell you, she is doing some incredible magic right now."

"What is she doing?" Fay asked again.

"No idea. I've never seen anything like this before. Granted, I haven't seen much of anything so far since I've only been able to do this for a couple weeks and I've been not doing it so I don't melt my eyes out."

"What are you talking about?" the Ravenclaw asked.

"I can see magic now."

"What?!"

Before any more questions could be asked, the dragon-in-girl's-form suddenly blinked, then snapped her fingers again, and at the sound, the Gryffindor boy jerked back to life. In his hands, the red mist swirling within the Remembrall slowly fading back into white.

"What did you do?" Fay demanded.

"Relax," Liv said. "I just organized his memories so he'd be able to recall them again."

"You can do that?" Hermione asked.

"It's not that hard," the Norwegian Ridgeback said with a shrug. "I started by reading his mind, then used that memory magic you used to make what was already in there accessible to him."

"You can do that?" asked the Ravenclaw, directing her question at the dragon.

"You can do _what_?" the Gryffindor girl asked, her question directed at the Ravenclaw.

"Uh, what are we talking about?" Neville asked, clearly confused.

Nobody got any answers, though, as the door was thrown open forcefully and the girl with the dirty blonde hair who was Harry's adopted daughter dragged a brunette with her hair down her back in a single plait into the compartment by the hand; a girl with golden blonde hair and a face that reminded the Hermetic mage of a horse followed closely behind, looking just as confused as the Gryffindor boy. Two steps behind them was Colin Creevey.

"Hey guys, this is Suzie B and her roomie, Haitch," Luna announced.

"Hi," said the brunette haltingly, waving awkwardly. "I'm Susan Bones."

"Hannah Abbott," her blonde roommate added a little more gracefully.

The two Gryffindors and the Ravenclaw froze, as they tried to process how to proceed; meanwhile, the Hermetic mage simply nodded, and the dragon waved back with a smile.

"This… this is bigger on the inside," said the blonde second-year. "How is that possible?"

"Magic," the artistic adept said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, even as Colin was busy taking pictures of the compartment interior with his Polaroid camera.

"But that's impossible! There isn't a student with the knowledge or skill to modify the Express!"

"Oops?" said the dragon under her breath, looking sheepish.

Suddenly, Hermione's roommate appeared behind the three Hufflepuffs, leaning heavily against the doorframe as she panted heavily.

"You… just… ran… off…," Su-Jin complained, between gasps for air before slumping into the room, dropping her trunk as she fell to the floor back-first, chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath. "Why… didn't you… wait… for me?"

"I'm so sorry," said the bushy-haired Ravenclaw. "I was just excited to spend time with Harry."

"What am I, chopped liver?" asked the only Asian person in the area.

"Don't you _already_ spend hours with him outside of classes every week?" Liv inquired, cocking her head to the side as she scrutinized Hermione with eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"That's different!" Hermione protested. "This is ten straight hours on a train! We never get to spend this much time together all at once!"

"I do think the lady doth protest too much," Fay teased.

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink, though the shadowrunner could not tell if it was in embarrassment or indignation.

"What about you and Pill?" he interjected, deciding to try to save his best friend from the line of inquiry that was clearly giving her a bit of trouble.

The bushy-haired Ravenclaw shot him a grateful look. "Yeah! What about you and Neville?"

"What about me and Fay?" asked the pudgy Gryffindor, seemingly oblivious.

"I don't think he even notices that I'm a girl," said the purple-haired girl, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"I'm sorry, what did she say? I didn't hear," Neville asked the only other boy in the compartment.

"I wasn't paying attention," lied the Hermetic mage. "You do anything interesting recently?"

"Well, I'm trying to crossbreed some of that herb you gave me with some plants we've been studying in Herbology," said the Gryffindor boy.

"Yeah? Anything promising?"

"Well, I'm working with some shrivelfig, bubotuber, moly and alihotsy," the boy sometimes called Pilgrim said. "Last time I tried the shrivelfig hybrid, I got a really, really nice buzz."

"Ever consider selling whatever you come up with?"

"I'd like to refine them a bit more first."

"All right. You do you."

"Thanks, mate."

**~ooOoo~**

They had just departed the station when there was a knock on the door, bringing the conversations to an abrupt halt as the compartment's occupants exchanged looks.

Resting the heel of his palm on the Beretta holstered at his waist, the shadowrunner glanced at the dragon, who had done likewise, then nodded to his other daughter, who smiled slightly, a hand also inside her bright orange cardigan as she slid open the door, revealing a troop of redheads of various ages and genders.

"Hi," said the diminutive girl at the front of the group, peering into the chamber. "Wow, this is bigger on the inside," she said.

"Can we help you?" Hermione asked politely.

"I just, uh, wanted to thank Harry for, um, saving me in the Chamber of Secrets," said the girl with the flame-colored hair nervously.

"See? I told you my best friend Harry wouldn't let anything happen to our Ginny," boasted a familiar-looking ginger, his chest puffing with pride.

"It was you who closed the Chamber of Secrets?" Susan Bones' roommate asked at the same time in amazement.

"I mean, who else would have the gall to call the entire school 'muppets'?" Hermione asked, more commentary than question.

"I'm sorry, who the frag are you?" asked the shadowrunner, directing the question at the beaming boy.

"C'mon, Harry," said the ginger boy. "It's me, your best friend Ron!"

The physical adept turned towards the dragon, who tapped the side of her face next to her eye, then slightly tilted her head towards the new girl.

"I'm sorry, Liv, do you know this bakebrain?" he asked, as he infused Astral power into his eyes before turning back to look at the group at the door.

Each of the boys standing in the entrance to the expanded compartment had a glowing ball of light in their abdomen, each in a different shade of cinnabar; it was the girl's that was notable, as though it was certainly reddish, it seemed to be in the clutches of a clawed, palatinate hand that from which a dark haze leaked.

He didn't know what it meant, but it wasn't his problem.

"No idea who he is," the dragon said, before turning to her sister. "What about you, Lulu?"

"Nope," Luna said brightly. "Never met him before."

"Wait, I think I've seen around him before," Fay said, joining in on what she thought was a joke. "You're Ron Weasley, right?"

"Harry, you're taking the joke too far," said the boy, visibly worried. "It's not funny anymore."

Suddenly, the physical adept was out of his seat, seizing the ginger boy by the neck before anybody could react and slamming him into the window in the corridor with such force the glass cracked on impact, his fingertips digging into the bakebrain's throat as he held him off the floor, the ginger struggling weakly as he tried the prise the hand off of his windpipe.

Behind him, the remaining Weasley boys drew their wands, only for them to fly into the compartment and into the girl-in-dragon-form's hand.

"I'll be holding onto these until you've calmed down," she said, her expression dangerous.

A momentary silence hung in the air, interrupted only by Colin's camera flashing and whirling as he took a photograph of the Boy-Who-Lived holding the ginger up on the wall by the throat and the sound of said ginger choking for breath.

"I warned you before that we were through," growled the ferryman dangerously, the boy in his grasp starting to grow pale. "We aren't friends. We were never friends. I once threw you down a flight of stairs because you hurt one of my actual friends, and I thought maybe you'd learn your lesson, but apparently not, so I guess class is back in session."

"Potter," said the oldest of the red-headed boys with as much authority his shaking voice could muster. "I'm warning you…"

"What are you going to do, take points from Hufflepuff?" snarled the Boy-Who-Lived, his fingers tightening around the throat of the boy in his grasp, whose eyes started to bulge out of his skull. "We're out of school, fragface; you have no jurisdiction here."

"I can make your next year very difficult," threatened the prefect.

"You can try, but I can ruin your family's _lives_ with just a few words to Rita Skeeter," the shadowrunner retorted, lips curling back in a vicious smile. "Who do you think set her on that cunt who suddenly went on a leave of absence after Valentine's Day?

"I can make you wish you were never even born."

The prefect paled at the sound of a real threat, swallowing audibly.

"Come on, why don't you ask this bakebrain why I threw him down some stairs last year?"

The oldest ginger swallowed, looking at his brother. "Why did Potter throw you down a flight of stairs?" he asked, almost as if he was already dreading the answer.

"I-it's nothing… I _just_ called Granger a nightmare, and said no one could stand her and that's why she had no friends," gasped the boy shoved against the window as the grip on his throat loosened for just a moment, long enough for him to speak. "It's not my fault she heard me and ran off to have a cry!"

Suddenly, every face framed by red hair darkened, and the prefect's lips twitched upwards in contempt towards his own brother.

"Excuse me Potter, but I believe we have some family business to attend to," he said ominously. "If you'll just release young Ronald, we'll be on our way."

"He's all yours," said the ferryman as he released the boy in his grasp, who slid down the window and slumped to the ground, grasping for breath as he rubbed his throat. Turning to the little redheaded girl, he added, "I'm the one who broke your wand, so send me the bill when you get it replaced."

"Thank you, but it was my fault," the girl said back. "If I hadn't written in that diary, it wouldn't have come to that."

"I still broke your wand, and I'd like to take responsibility for that, at least."

Then, to the boys, he said, "I'm going to go. You do what you have to; I don't want to know anything about it, but if that little bakebrain ever tries that drek with me again, I _will_ end him. Clear?"

As if to demonstrate his point, the ferryman gave the downed Gryffindor a vicious kick, forcing the air out of his diaphragm and wracking the fallen boy with a bout of wheezing gasps.

"Crystal," answered the prefect. "You'll never have trouble from him again in the future."

"Good."

The Hermetic mage had a feeling that wasn't who he'd have trouble from in the future, but that was a problem for another day.

"I'll leave your wands with the food cart lady," the dragon told the redheads. "I don't want you getting any funny ideas and trying something cute, 'cuz then I'd have to do something about it, and nobody wins when that happens."

As the redheads retreated, dragging along the prone ginger the physical adept had been previously strangling, the shadowrunner thought he saw expressions of intrigue on the faces of the twins and hoped they wouldn't become a problem, though he was fairly certain he could handle them both at the same time if it came to that.

"So, do you have plans for the summer?" Neville asked, without missing a beat.

"I'm thinking I'd like to travel overseas, maybe start in New York and work my way west," answered the Hermetic mage as he sat back down.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** It's not uncommon for people to resume their normal routines when they think the danger has passed; an example of this would be some of the people who are coming out of the current lockdown and immediately resuming what is now considered unsafe behaviors, like rushing to the beach or throwing a backyard barbecue. Throw in the fact that children are more likely to think themselves invincible, and it makes sense they'd quickly abandon the wearing of Ribbons.

Time travel always turns into something of a clusterfuck; the fact it exists in the Harry Potter universe makes me question what kind of time travel that world has, and I kind of wonder if there's a divergent timeline somewhere in there that Voldemort wins because Harry has gone back in time to save Buckbeak. Besides, as Harry explained, there are perfectly good mundane alternatives to giving a child a Time Turner.

If you don't tell Liv something can't be done, she'll do it; even if you told her, though, she'd probably do it if she felt like it. While she doesn't need the physical gestures to use magic, she does use it as a way to articulate how she wants the magic to behave as she's manipulating it directly. In a sense, while Hermetic magic requires its casters to use gestural components to cast a spell, Liv can cast the spell regardless, but gains better control when she uses gestures.

Ron Weasley's always been a bit of an interesting character to me; even though it may seem like he's being bashed (figuratively and literally), I see him as having ADHD and a lack of understanding on how what he says can hurt the feelings of others; his canon relationship with Harry is what I thought taught him power of words as weapons, and without it, he wouldn't understand why his actions that lead to the Halloween incident the previous year were in the wrong. In a sense, he's like a guy with Asperger Syndrome, given the way he awkwardly approached Harry aboard the train by almost immediately asking to see his scar (which would be a weird thing to ask anybody you've just met) and his apparent disregard for other people's feelings, which makes him appear insensitive. He's not a bad guy... he's just different, and different at a time when developmental disorders weren't well-understood. In a way, it's his friendship with Harry that helps him better adjust to the world around him, and with the clean break between the two form the previous year's Christmas incident, it's very reasonable for him to not have talked about it to anybody or be taught why he was wrong. I honestly think there's an interesting story in there, Asperger's Ron and Harry trying socialize him properly so that he turns into an adult who can function normally in society, but this story isn't that. Actually, Asperger's Ron with Approval-Seeking Harry and Pathological Learner Hermione could be an interesting story, especially if you add in Inferiority & Superiority Complex Draco and Persecutory delusion Neville.

One more chapter to go before _Physical Adept_ and Year 2 of _Harry Potter and the RPG Influence_ will be in the figurative books.

Once again, many, many thanks to my long-suffering editor, Romantically Distant, for all their efforts in reading and proofing my writing. And now you've read this chapter, feel free to leave a review or just PM me, and, with the WARS pandemic still on-going, stay safe, even as lockdowns are lifted and you resume your lives.


	28. Back to Life, Back to Reality

_**Harry Potter and the Physical Adept**_

**Chapter 28: Back to Life, Back to Reality**

* * *

Saying their goodbyes, the shadowrunner, the dragon and the fairly normal young witch left King's Cross Station on foot, traversing the half-hour walk to the Leaky Cauldron in the night, the bright lights of the many storefronts along the way illuminating their journey. While the dragon-in-girl's-form and her sister walked hand-in-hand, the physical adept led by a half-step, keeping one hand on the monoknife in his pocket as he remained alert for trouble.

Pulling up the hood on his jumper and tugging the bill of his ball cap down over his face just as he and his daughters entered the Leaky Cauldron, the Hermetic mage quickly pushed his way through the evening's patrons and made a beeline for the backyard with his daughters in tow, only relaxing after the door had closed behind them, leaving the trio alone in the back passage.

With a wave of Liv's hand, the brick wall parted, revealing Diagon Alley after nightfall. Unlike the daylight hours, where the street bustle with activity, it was desolate in the dark, lit by only a few scattered lanterns at street level providing just enough light to barely luminate the avenue for pedestrians while the glow of interior lighting leaked through numerous second-story windows; traversing the darkened boulevard, the trio stood out as the only forms moving on the street, and the shadowrunner and the dragon kept a hand on their weapons as they walked, carefully scanning their surroundings for hostile contacts as they went.

Turning into Knockturn, the children hurried to their destination, coming to a stop at the darkened doorway of Wizarding Supplies.

Without hesitating, the Hermetic mage knocked on the door three times with a closed fist, creating a dull thumping noise that echoed in the night. When there was no answer, the boy repeated his pounding on the door, and after a long moment, one of the second-story windows slammed open.

"What do you want?" the shopkeeper demanded, shouting down from the upper floor.

"Let us in," the shadowrunner shouted back. "We need to talk."

"Do you know what time it is?" grumbled Leticia.

"It's urgent," the Boy-Who-Lived insisted.

"Fine, I'm on my way down. Just give me a minute."

A minute turned out to be five. Then, the proprietor of Wizarding Supplies answered the door in a thin dressing gown, grumpy from having her night interrupted. "What is it?"

"Can we come in? You're going to want to sit down for this."

Reluctantly, Leticia opened the door, and the three children entered the shop, following the woman to the back, where she sat down at a table, leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms. "Well?"

"Do you know anybody discreet who knows how to dismantle monsters?" asked the boy, as he placed the trunk he had been carrying by hand on the floor and opened it.

"Discrete?" asked the shopkeep, brow furrowing suspiciously. "Why?"

"C'mon, let me show you something," said the shadowrunner, nodding towards the interior of the trunk. Seeing Leticia's suspicious expression, he added, "I promise you, I'm not going to try anything funny."

The shopkeeper nodded hesitantly, watching as the boy climbed into the trunk; a moment later, she followed.

What she saw within the trunk made her stop dead in her tracks.

"Is that…?" she started to ask, but trailed off.

"A basilisk?" asked her silent partner, more confirmation than question. "Yeah."

"But how?"

"You know about the Beast of Slytherin?" asked the Boy-Who-Lived.

"This… this is it?"

"Yeah."

"So you need a dismantler because…"

"I'm planning to sell parts of it."

"But basilisk-material goods are priceless because of the rarity," Leticia protested.

"Not anymore," the Hermetic mage said. "I've acquired the methods for breeding basilisks, and I want to bring basilisk materials to market and sell them here and to other vendors through a third party, so that nobody can trace the source of the materials."

"But breeding basilisks is illegal," said the owner of Wizarding Supplies.

"Are _you_ going to tell somebody?"

"Of course not! But I just thought you should know."

"I _already_ know. It's in every book that even mentions basilisks in passing."

"Okay then. So, a discrete dismantler, huh?"

"One who hopefully won't take more than a ten-percent cut of what they're processing."

"I'll have to ask around, but given basilisk components are priceless, we might be able to find somebody who might do the job for as little as five percent."

"You do that," said the boy. "Five percent of the basilisk will go to you as a finder's fee for finding a dismantler; if you can get the dismantler to take less than ten percent, the difference is yours as well, but you probably shouldn't let that influence you in getting a shady dismantler for cheap, because if they fuck up taking the basilisk apart, none of us get paid.

"I'm going out of country Saturday, so the basilisk will either need to be either dismantled by then, or wait until the end of August; I'll come check in with you on Tuesday morning, and again on Thursday."

"All right," said Leticia. "I'll start looking in the morning."

**~ooOoo~**

Saturday nights were the nights when Patience was storyteller for her _World of Darkness_ campaign at Jason's hobby shop, so the dragon, the Hermetic mage and the artistic adept caught a black cab back to Surrey and arrived at the store a little after twenty-two hundred hours, just as the night's session was wrapping up.

With Hogwarts and Knockturn behind him, the shadowrunner had turned his Astral perception on, and the ride from London had been enlightening to say the least. While most people he saw were nothing special, every now and again, he saw a spark in someone's belly, often small and dim, and always a different color and shape. Given what he knew about Astral signatures, it meant there were either a lot more magicals out in London, or something wasn't adding up.

It wasn't until he entered the back room, when he saw the telltale ember in Romy—razzmatazz like the color of the Crayola crayon and shaped like a tiny, ever-shifting polyhedron—that he finally had the chance to ask.

"You're not magical, are you Romy?"

"Of course not! Why would you even ask me that?" the post-graduate asked, indignant.

"What are you even talking about?" Patience asked.

"I recently learned to see magic, the way Liv does, and every magical person I've met, they've had this glowing ember inside their belly," explained the Hermetic mage. "You have it too, which is why I asked."

"If I was magical, don't you think I'd know?" Romy protested.

"I don't see an aura when I look at her with Auspex," Patience agreed. "She's not a mage like you are."

"Maybe she's a squib," Luna suggested.

"A what now?" asked Jack.

"A squib is a person with at least one magical parent who themself isn't magical," Harry recited, recalling something he had read in a book. "Is either of your parents magical?"

"If they were, they never said."

"Can you be a squib without magical parents?" the dragon asked the artistic adept.

"Then they wouldn't be a squib," said the blonde. Seeing the dragon's expression, she continued. "But the point stands, I suppose; it's not unheard of for squibs to have magical children, so there could be people out in the normal world who are unaware of having magical potential in them, even if it's not enough to get them into Hogwarts."

"I can go for that," Harry said, as he looked around the room. "Where's Karen? I thought she was playing in on this."

"She's in L.A. right now," Jack explained. "She's been cast in an action movie that's in filming for the next couple months."

"So, 'Squeak, you have any plans for the summer?" Jason asked, as he entered the back room.

"I was thinking the girls and I would travel a bit, see more of the world," said the physical adept. "Probably fly over to New York, then work my way across the States before crossing the Pacific and hitting a couple places in Asia."

"Well, here're the papers for Luna," said the shopkeep, handing a thick, folded manila envelope to the boy, who quickly handed them to the artistic adept. "If you're going to be in New York, I may have something I need delivered, and Patience might already have eyes on her."

"I got you covered," said the shadowrunner. "Just don't ever tell me what it is."

"I can do that."

**~ooOoo~**

As soon as they were through the front door of the safe house, Liv was making a beeline for her bedroom, pulling Luna along by the hand and leaving behind a trail of discarded clothes, forcing Harry to pick up after the girls in true parental fashion as he went up the stairs after them. By the time he reached the landing, the dragon's bedroom door was closed, but he could see light coming through the crack beneath the door and could make out the sounds of girlish giggling through the solid wood.

Retiring to his chambers, the shadowrunner finally took a moment to take stock of the room; furnished with just a double-sized bed with a lamp-adorned nightstand beside it, an L-shaped wooden desk in the corner, and a cushioned, high-back office chair on wheels, it was a rather spartan living arrangement, with nothing personal in the space. Even the walls were just beige, the most plain, nondescript color imaginable.

He heard footfall in the hall that grew fainter as they descended the stairs; a moment later, he heard the fan in the kitchen come alive and added the silencing of the ventilation system with magic to his mental list of DIY.

For now, though, he had other things on his mind; his brief discussion with Hermione about the time-turner and time travel had made him more acutely aware of just how much he needed a method for manipulating time that also wouldn't tempt him to try to alter history, and while he had certainly considered developing some version of _Time Stop_, stopping time in one to three minute intervals was worthless if the drain left him him nonfunctional for all of it, and when he had tried magic of that level the previous year, it had rendered him completely unconscious for several hours, not to mention nearly killed him.

His bedroom, however, was not a good place for the research and development of magic, what with its windows to the outside world; it's why he had converted the basement into a workspace. With that in mind, he came out of his room and immediately saw the dragon had left the door to her bedchambers ajar; from where he stood on the landing, he could see the _Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past_ and the _Art of Fighting_ posters that decorated the wall through the gap, with the 1976 poster of Farrah Fawcett in her red bathing suit hanging between them.

He wasn't sure where the dragon had gotten that last poster, but if he was a betting man, he'd put money on Shaun's involvement.

Beneath that was the superking bed, covered in a pink Little Twin Stars duvet, which she had paid through the nose to have altered to fit her oversized sleeping arrangements, and a pair of fluffy white pillows she had Sharpied the phrases "I can't get out of bed, the blankets have accepted me as one of their own and if I leave now, I might lose their trust" and "Don't wake me up, just go-go away" onto in large, carefully printed letters.

"Lulu's never had _mabo dofu_, so I'm making some," called the dragon from the kitchen as the shadowrunner descended the stairs; she must have heard his footsteps from the distance. "Want me to save you any?"

"Sure," the ferryman called back. "I'm going to be in the basement; there's a project I want to get started on now, before we head overseas."

"I'll let you know when food's ready."

"Thanks, _omae_."

**~ooOoo~**

First thing Sunday morning, the ferryman was back in the facility, this time accompanied by the dragon and the artistic adept. Once through the door, he headed straight for the exercise equipment while Liv and Luna began setting up dozens of steel targets on conveyor tracks, several paintball-loaded turrets rigged with motion detectors and a multitude of crates for cover.

By the Hermetic mage time finished running the battery of tests on himself to determine his limitations as a physical adept, his daughters were already working through a series of dynamic shooting drills, moving from cover to cover while shooting at targets and avoiding the paintballs flying at them, first with rifles, then with pistols. As he watched, the dragon-in-girl's-form cut from one stack of crates to the next at full speed, triggering several turrets at the same time; as they fired simultaneously, filling the air with a barrage of paint, Liv vaulted into a corkscrewing flip, hitting two targets while in midair before landing and rolling smoothly into cover.

Peeking out, she quickly sighted her last remaining targets and double-tapped each, leading to her sister blowing the air horn in her hand.

"Show-off," said the blonde, her tone half jest, half accusation. "All right, reset."

As the Norwegian Ridgeback moved back towards the starting area of the drill, she nodded at her adoptive father. "How'd you do?" she asked.

"Ran the mile in just over four minutes and thirty seconds and kept up pace for about an hour without feeling tired, so I'm a little slower than Pace," said the physical adept, consulting a legal pad he had written his findings in. "Not sure how well my stamina will hold up, but I went thirteen-plus miles without running out of breath, so I think my fitness is pretty good there.

"In terms of functional strength, I managed to bench press one hundred forty kilos and deadlift two-thirty-five kilos with practically no effort as an adept, so while I'm not as strong as you or Patience, I'm still significantly better than most adults can manage."

"Already knew that," said the dragon. "That's why you haven't beaten me again since that time you surprised me, because now I know I can just get in close and overpower you."

"So, mind if I step in and try the course?" asked the shadowrunner.

"Be my guest," Liv said, gesturing for the boy to go ahead of her.

Carefully, the ferryman doffed his overcoat, then dropped his haversack to the floor and retrieved a HK33 and a Beretta from it, laying them down on the floor before pulling off his belt, slipping a pair of multi-pocket magazine pouches, one for his rifle and one for his pistol, onto the leather strap before running it back through his the loop on the waistband of his trousers and cinching it tight with the steel buckle. Next, he strapped on a chest holster for his pistol, slipping the Beretta into it before pulling his coat back on and throwing the carrying strap of the rifle over his head and right shoulder.

Taking up the position the dragon had previously occupied at the starting point of the course, the ferryman nodded to the witch, who started the stopwatch in her hand and sounded the air horn at the same time.

At the blaring noise, the shadowrunner moved up to the first stack of crates, pressing his back against them before quickly pivoting around the makeshift barricade; instantly, he sighted the trio of human-shaped targets on the conveyor belt and squeezed off a bullet into each as he moved at full speed towards the next set of crates, placing the shots perfectly into where the brain stem would be in a human body as he ran. Diving into a forward roll just a ball of paint whizzed by where his head had been a moment earlier and rising to his feet just before he would have collided with the wooden boxes, he quickly set up on top of the blockade and shot two more targets before dropping back down to avoid being struck with paint, scooting over to the edge of the barrier and peeking out to get a look at the next area.

With several turrets set up to create a crossfire and a wide space between his current cover and the next one, the physical adept quickly recognized he couldn't just run to the next set of crates the way the dragon had; even if he could react faster than the Norwegian Ridgeback, he just didn't have her ability to dodge gunfire with acrobatics. Furthermore, with the way the field was designed, he was expected to take down a pair of targets while on the move, which meant he couldn't just make a beeline for cover and hope for the best.

On the other hand, he had options the dragon didn't have.

He flashed Astral power into his left forearm, activating his tattoo; immediately, the translucent black disk of magical force formed, then winked back out of existence, and he was glad for the precise control of Astral power he had developed over the years. Quickly, he rose, dropping his assault rifle and letting it hang by the shoulder strap as he quickly drew the pistol from his chest and sidestepped out past the barricade of crates, quickly pulsing Astral power to his tattoo in rapid succession, erecting the shield before dropping it momentarily in time with his shots, paint splattering harmlessly against the zero-thickness disk as he took down both targets in rapid succession while he ran laterally for the next set of crates, holstering his Beretta and taking his HK33 back in hand as he slid into cover, the shield keeping him free of paint.

From behind the wooden barrier, he quickly peeked out over the boxes and spotted the targets, then dropped back down as a ball of paint sliced the air where his head had just been. Realizing he could not easily maneuver the rifle into position for any shot, he once again switched back to the handgun, then closed his eyes as he envisioned the area in his mind's eye, creating a clear, precise three-dimensional map in his thoughts, complete with the exact position of the targets, the turrets, himself and the crates he had taken cover behind.

Without opening his eyes, he reached up and blindfired in pairs five times, quickly switching from target to target between every double tap; with each pull of the trigger, he heard the steel of the target ring out as it was struck by a bullet.

The sound of the air horn broke the boy's concentration, and his eyes opened to see the dragon glaring at him.

"You cheated," Liv accused. "You used magic."

"You didn't say I _couldn't_," the shadowrunner countered.

"He has a point," Luna agreed thoughtfully.

"Look, I don't have your raw physical abilities, so I did what I had to to get to the end," said the physical adept, as he switched his firearms back to safe. "Without the magic, I'd probably have used a frag on each target, then popped smoke to conceal my movement from the motion sensors while I move to the next set of cover, but grenades are kind of expensive. Besides, even if I'm tougher when I'm channeling Astral power into my skin, muscles and bones, I still don't know how much tougher I really am."

"Besides, if this was a real firefight, I'd make sure no witnesses survived, so magic wouldn't be an issue."

"Still, you light-switched everybody except the five you got with blindfire," the dragon noted. "That's some pretty amazing accuracy you got there."

"Yeah, I think that's from being a physical adept," said the boy. "I might not have your raw physicals, but my reaction time and coordination is off the charts."

"Better than mine; I don't think I could lightswitch somebody while on the move, let alone two targets at the speed you did it at."

"In the real, you could probably just rush them and tear them apart, limb from limb; you're pretty much bulletproof, at least against small arms."

"Fair enough. So, want to find out how tough you are?"

"I'm not letting you hit me; last time you did that, you cracked one of my ribs."

Liv grinned, then beckoned to Luna, who dramatically pulled first a cricket bat, then a steel pipe, a knife, and finally a Walther PPK out of her messenger-style bag.

"Try not to hit anything vital, all right?" said the shadowrunner with a tone of resignation, placing his hands behind his head and interlacing his fingers.

"I know, Tolly," chirped the blonde brightly, the cricket bat resting on her shoulder.

Then, she went to town on the physical adept, striking him repeatedly with both the broad and narrow parts of the bat as she circled around him, landing multiple blows on his back, chest and side without making him even flinch.

"Come on, what are you trying to do, Dia, tickle me?" asked the boy.

The artistic adept's smile suddenly turned mischievous, and the bat clattered to the ground as she suddenly traced her finger down his side.

"Huh, guess it can dull sensation too," Harry said, brow furrowing in concentration.

"You're not ticklish?" Luna asked.

"I'm very ticklish," answered the shadowrunner, "but apparently, if I adjust the Astral power I'm channeling into my skin, I can control how sensitive my skin is, either amp it up or turn it down."

"That's no fun," pouted the girl, before picking up the pipe. "Ready for round two?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

The girl repeated the process with the length of hollowed out metal, beating it against the boy until it was showing dents. "No discomfort?" she asked.

"No more than a finger flick."

"All right then," Luna said, tossing aside the pipe and picking up the knife. "Hand?"

The shadowrunner removed his left hand from his head, and the blonde took him by the wrist, holding it for a moment before stabbing the blade into his palm; on impact, the steel shook and the tip blunted, but skin and flesh did not budge.

"Only one left," Liv said, watching with interest.

"Wait," Harry said.

"Getting cold feet?" teased the dragon.

"No, I just don't want either of you shooting at me," said the shadowrunner, before pulling his Beretta from his haversack with his right hand and firing it at the other.

The pain was excruciating, like a huge iron fist had punched through the back of his hand and out of his palm, and in that moment, he wished he had been shot with a Walther instead of the Beretta because of the PPK's smaller cartridge.

"Fucking hell!" shouted the physical adept, shaking his bullet-hole ridden hand in pain.

"Guess you're not bulletproof," said the dragon, as she crossed over to the shadowrunner, waving a hand over his wounded appendage, watching with interest as the wound healed over. "So, what're our plans for the afternoon?"

"I thought we'd catch a cab out to the country, find a farm that'll sell us fertilized chicken eggs, then search pet shops for toads," said the boy, taking one last look at his previously injured hand.

"Does it have to be chicken eggs?" the blonde suddenly asked. "How do we know it won't work with other eggs? Or with frogs, or newts?"

"Good point," conceded the shadowrunner. "I guess, but before we buy some chicken eggs, we'll need to get something to keep them in. After that, we could go raid places for other eggs, maybe even hit Saint James's Park for some swan eggs, and shop at a couple pet stores for any amphibians they might have in stock."

**~ooOoo~**

As it turned out, it took most of the day to get the trunk, which the salesperson at Llewellyn and Haig called the Scamander Special, go to several pet stores to purchase all manners of amphibious animals, catch a taxi out to the country to find a farm that would sell fertilized chicken eggs and get back to the city center; by the time they got back to London, it was after night had fallen, and the trio knew better than to attempt an operation at night without first casing the location, so acquiring the swan eggs would have to be put on hold, as Harry had already made an appointment with Grace for Monday morning.

As always, the noirette was impeccably dressed, this time in a tank top, skintight leather pants and a pair of high top combat boots, all in black in sharp contrast to her alabaster skin.

She looked even more beautiful than he remembered, and he could feel his pants tighten, something he had thought he could avoid by making sure to crack one off before he left home that morning.

"Twice in one year? You're going to give a girl ideas," said the tattoo artist with a coquettish smile as she greeted the dragon, the shadowrunner and the blonde at the door of her studio, tossing her hair as she closed the door behind the trio.

"Like what, that I need more tattoos?" Harry deadpanned.

"You know, I've been out drinking a few times since I got the Ribbon tattoo, and I haven't been able to get drunk," said the woman.

"The Ribbon must consider alcohol poison," deduced the Hermetic mage. "I'm sorry, I didn't see that happening."

"No, it's good," Grace said. "Now, I can enjoy the taste of a good whiskey or mixed drink without worrying about having some bumsucker trying to get me drunk so he can take advantage.

"So, what brings you here today?"

"There was an incident last month that made me realize I needed another tattoo," said the boy, noting the soft blue glowing ball seated in her belly, visible only through Astral perception. "You're the only person I'd trust to do this."

"All right, what's the design?"

"Dia?" the boy asked, and the blonde opened up the drawing pad she was carrying in hand, showing the tattoo artist an intricate design made up of numerous runes.

"If you wanted wings, wouldn't it be easier to get a wing tattoo?" Grace suggested.

"The runes might be arranged to look like wings, but they're more than that," Harry explained. "They're supposed to provide additional functions, which plain wings wouldn't provide, if plain wings could produce any sort of magical effect at all."

"And I need this tattoo," Luna added, as she flipped to another page.

"This one's much more simple," the pale woman observed. "So, where do you want these?"

"On my shoulder blades," said the Hermetic mage.

"Behind both ears, so I can hide them with my hair," said the artistic adept at the same time.

"How big do you want them on your shoulders?" Grace asked Harry.

"Large enough that you can incorporate all the details, but not so large that you can't include it into a full back mural in the future, if necessary."

"That's going to take at least four hours, maybe even five or six," said the noirette. "We better get started."

**~ooOoo~**

"This is Yanis," introduced Letiticia, gesturing to the rail-thin man with the hooked nose, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back behind his ears. "He's a dismantler of beasts."

It was Tuesday morning, before business hours, so there were no customers shopping at Wizarding Supplies yet, making it an ideal place for the introduction to take place.

"You're Harry Potter," said the man, head tilted slightly to the side as he scrutinized the boy. "What business could you _possibly_ have with me?"

"Hey, I'll have you know, Harry's amazing," Hermione declared, forcefully defending her best friend's reputation. "He defeated the You-Know-Who, you know!"

"Everybody knows the story," said the man dismissively, not realizing the girl meant a completely different incident than the one he was thinking about.

The Ravenclaw started to retort, but Hermetic mage had extended a hand in front of her, stopping her from continuing.

"I got this," said the boy, opening the trunk he had been carrying and gesturing inside. "Have a look."

The dismantler looked at the shopkeeper, who nodded, barely able to contain her excitement behind a mask of professional calm.

The man descended into the trunk, only to emerge a moment later, his eyes wide and expression shocked. "Is that a basilisk?" he asked, clearly unable to believe what he had seen.

"It's exactly that," Harry said flatly. "Why else would I need a discrete dismantler?"

"Where'd you even find one?" the man asked.

"Can't tell you that," said the shadowrunner. "Gotta protect my sources."

"Fair enough," said the man. "I'll do the job for seven-and-half percent of the materials that come out of the dismantling."

"Done," said the Hermetic mage. "When can you start?"

"How about right now?"

"How long do you think it'll take?"

"Working eight hours a day, two, maybe three days?"

"I got to be somewhere today," said the shadowrunner.

"I'll stay and watch," Liv volunteered.

"Me too," Luna said. "I want to see what a basilisk looks like on the inside."

"All right, then," Harry said. "I'm going to visit St. James's Park. I've been meaning to see the swans for a while now."

"Can I come?" Hermione asked. "I haven't been to St. James's in years."

"Well, it's a public park, so it's not like I can stop you."

**~ooOoo~**

"This is nice," commented the Ravenclaw, sitting across from the shadowrunner on a blanket with a basket of sandwiches between them. "Did you know this was going to happen?"

The sky was a clear, baby blue, cotton candy clouds slowly drifting along wherever the gentle breeze took them. They were by the riverbank, the still surface of the water reflecting the sky and the bright green of the foliage around them.

All in all, it was very picturesque, complete with ducks and swans.

"I had an inkling," admitted the Hermetic mage, as he looked around. "Somebody had to stay to make sure the dismantler didn't try to steal anything, and somebody had to be at St. James's to case the place for a run."

"Wait, this is work related?" Hermione asked, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"Why would I go to a park otherwise?" asked the shadowrunner, brow furrowing in confusion. "Nature's not something I'm particularly keen on."

"What's the job?" asked the Ravenclaw, crestfallen.

"Acquisition."

"Of what?"

"Waterfowl eggs."

"Why not buy them?"

"I can't think of a place where you could buy fertilized duck, geese _or_ swan eggs. Can you?"

"Why do you even need them?"

"Paracritter breeding experiment."

"That's all you're going to tell me?"

"Something like that."

"If you're planning on acquiring the eggs, don't you need to be keeping track of all the birds?"

"According to my research, we'll have to hit this place three times: once now, once over the Christmas holiday, and during the Easter holiday."

"Why?"

"Swans, ducks and geese nest at different times of the year."

"Which one are you here for now?"

"Swans."

"Aren't those the property of the Queen?"

"I won't tell her if you won't."

"That's fair. How are you planning on taking care of them?"

"Dia's volunteered to. I think she's interested in paracritters."

"That makes sense; she's really good with Liv."

"You see it too, huh?"

"Even a blind person could see it."

**~ooOoo~**

Acquiring the swan eggs wasn't really much of a challenge; as St. James's was a public park and little else, it did not have much security beyond a few CCTV cameras which could be easily evaded and a physical barrier that could be bypassed through climbing or flight. In fact, the hardest part of the entire heist was locating and securing the swan eggs, no more than one from any single nest, before extracting from the job site.

Still, the entire run had been done after dark, so they didn't arrive back home until well after midnight, which made for a very late bedtime. Thus, when the ringing of the telephone woke the shadowrunner in the morning, he was uncharacteristically groggy, and he trudged down the stairs to the only phone in the house with heavy feet.

"Potter," the shadowrunner growled into the handset. "Go."

"There's a lady here looking for you," Jason explained. "Asked for you by name and all."

"Is it urgent?" asked the physical adept, massaging his temples.

"She said it was."

The Hermetic mage groaned as he rubbed small circles on his forehead with his thumb. "Tell her I'll be there in an hour; I just crawled out of bed, so I gotta get some stuff done first."

"Wilco."

As the boy hung up the phone, he turned to see his daughters at the base of the staircase, the blonde rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands.

"We have to get up, don't we?" asked the dragon, expression glum.

"Unfortunately."

**~ooOoo~**

"Where is she?" mouthed the Hermetic mage, as he came through the door of Bourne's Comics and Games, heel of his right hand on the Beretta in his waistband holster.

Without a word, Jason tilted his head, gesturing in a direction with his eyes; following his line of sight, Harry quickly recognized the pensioner in the monochromatic wardrobe at the _Shadowrun_ section of the store, an open hardcover book in hand.

Nodding to Liv and Luna, he approached the woman while his daughters fanned out, setting up overwatch positions where they could coordinate fire and create a kill box should it go badly.

"Lady Longbottom," said the shadowrunner, as he reached conversation distance.

"Mister Potter," said the Longbottom matriarch back.

"What can I do for you?" asked the boy

"So, you're a shadowrunner, huh?" asked the woman, holding up the _Shadowrun_ core rulebook, and the shadowrunner nodded. "In that case, I'd like to hire you for something."

"What's the run?"

"I need you to find somebody for me," said the pensioner, as she took a faded black-and-white photograph out of her handbag, showing it to the shadowrunner.

The picture was of a beautiful young woman, who the Hermetic mage could see was the Longbottom matriarch in her youth, along with a group of servicemen in both British and American military uniforms circa the Second World War.

"I want you to find this man," said Augusta Longbottom, indicating a tall, ruggedly handsome man dressed in an American uniform with broad shoulders and a confident smile on his face. "His name is Peter Gallo, and he's a scout and raider from Brooklyn."

"What makes you think I can find him?" asked the shadowrunner.

"My Neville tells me you plan to visit New York over the summer," said the woman. "All I ask is you give it an honest try."

"What else can you tell me about him?" asked the boy.

"We didn't really exchange many personal details due to the nature of what we were doing," admitted the pensioner. "Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare, you see…"

"Fair enough," said the shadowrunner. "What's the offer?"

"I'm willing to pay one hundred Galleons, plus expenses," said the woman. "And one hundred more if you succeed in finding him."

"That's a lot of money for just one bloke," said the boy, as he did a quick bit of conversion. "I'd like to know what exactly I'm walking into."

"Peter is very important to me, that's all," the Longbottom matriarch told the boy. "One of the few regrets I have in life is that we fell out of touch after the War."

"All right, I'm not promising anything, but I'll look into it," said the shadowrunner.

"That's all I'm asking for," said the elderly woman, before glancing at Liv and Luna. "Well, I'll be on my way, then, so you can tell the girls to stand down; I know a kill box when I see one."

The dragon stepped aside, letting Augusta Longbottom pass, then cocked her head to the side as she gave the physical adept an inquisitive look. "Why?"

"We're going to be in New York anyways, so might as well take a look," said the Hermetic mage. "Besides, nobody pays that much money unless it's for something really, really important, and we might be able to leverage that in the future."

**~ooOoo~**

Hermione Jean Granger stared at the number written on the scrap of parchment Madam Malkin had just handed her; when the Ravenclaw had mentioned she had come into possession of some basilisk rawhide, the seamstress had asked to see it, and after she had authenticated a square-shaped piece large enough to serve as a tablecloth for her rather sizable workstation as the genuine article, the older witch had written a number on a piece of parchment and given it to the bushy-haired girl, explaining that it was her offer for the serpent hide she had just examined.

There were two zeroes, preceded by a five. In Galleons.

The Ravenclaw did some quick mental calculations in her head, then realized, if she asked Harry to sell the gold on the black market on her behalf, she would come away with close to a hundred thousand pounds sterling even after he took his cut for acting as an intermediary.

That was probably more than what her parents had managed to save after decades of hard work, and she could earn that much from just a fraction of what she had acquired through a couple months of research, knowing the right person and cutting a smart deal.

Without hesitation, Hermione accepted the offer and the gold quickly exchanged hands; leaving Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, she wondered what she could get for the remainder of her share of the basilisk, which consisted of more rawhide, some bones and teeth, and several bottles of blood and venom.

Then, she wondered what her best friend was doing with his portion of the spoils, which included some of all of those things, plus the basilisk's meat, which Yanis had described as being worthless due to its inherent toxicity.

**~ooOoo~**

Aboard the plane bound for John F. Kennedy International Airport, Jason's package tucked away safely in his haversack, the shadowrunner watched Dia, who had her nose pressed against the window as it taxied down the runway. As the aircraft slowly lifted off, the blonde stayed glued to the glass, staring out in excitement.

"This is brilliant," the girl said. "How is it doing this?"

The dragon quickly folded a piece of paper so that it resembled an airplane's wing.

"As the air goes around the wing, which is shaped like this," Liv explained, gesturing with her free hand, "it has to go faster over the top in order to catch up with the air on the bottom, but when it does that, it doesn't push down as hard as the air under the wing pushes up, which causes the plane to lift up off the ground; the faster the plane goes, the more lift the air under the wing generates, so when the plane goes fast enough, it can fly."

"That's so cool," Dia said. "How do you know this, though?"

"I don't just play video games," said the Norwegian Ridgeback with a smile. "I read books too."

"I know," said the blonde, still looking out the window. "It's amazing normies figured this out."

"I mean, flight was never going to be the exclusive domain of those who wave sticks around," Harry said. "It was a human dream for a very long time, so somebody somewhere was going to work the problem until they solved it to their own satisfaction."

Dia didn't answer, instead continuing to stare out the window.

All things considered, it had been a good year. Liv was making friends and becoming a better person than he could ever hope to be, he had a second daughter who was also best friends with his first and the two never argued, let alone fought, he had developed a new magical item that had seen mass production and had earned his daughter enough money to be financially independent for life if she so desired, and he had put together another successful run that had allowed him to acquire another priceless thing.

In a week, Bletchley and Wildfire would both be in Vegas, attending the program run by Jack Ryan, which Jason had helped arranged for but the shadowrunner had financed with his own money; to his mind, there wasn't much difference between a badge and a deniable asset, and those skills serve both well in their future endeavors.

As the seat belt light turned off, Harry excused himself from his seat, making his way down the narrow aisle to the lavatory. Earlier, when the very attractive stewardess had come to check on him and the girls, she had leaned over, inadvertently showing off the swells of her cleavage beneath her uniform; since then, his trousers had been uncomfortably tight, and he really wanted to take care of the situation now, rather than later.

Still, it had been a good year.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** A really long chapter—longest to date even before author's notes—where I couldn't seem to find any sort of appropriate break within the chapter for.

If every witch and wizard born from a normal family has at least one magical ancestor, then there has to be a lot of people with magical ancestors running around out there who don't know they've got magical ancestors. There's going to some even more specific departures in worldbuilding in the following books regarding "squibs"—non-magical descendants of magicals, in this context—building on the aesthetics of this world already in place.

Part of the idea of _Physical Adept_ was to take this version of Harry beyond what a normal child of his age would be physically capable of, since he was ultimately going to have to go to war and be even more of a soldier than he already is; it was like taking a dungeonpunk story and adding elements of superheroes stories to it. Given that, Liv would be Wonder Woman mixed with Wanda Maximoff, and Harry would be comparable to a fusion of Steve Rogers, John Constantine and Earth-1610 Clint Barton. Unfortunately, with my lack of in-depth superhero knowledge, I don't really have a comparison for Luna.

This is the first time Harry's gotten a tattoo that doesn't have a permanent effect, and even Luna gets in on the action, getting herself another magical tattoo, this one of her own design.

Poor Hermione, she thinks it's a date...

And then back to the United States, this time to experience the world.

I wrote _Physical Adept_ in the space of nearly a year while working full time, not counting any research I had to do prior to putting finger to keyboard, and it was an exhausting endeavor. As Book 3 will require a similar (if not more) of research, I expect publication for it will not start until end of Q1 2021, so, until then, this version of Harry Potter will be on hiatus. The next book in the series will be entitled _Harry Potter and the Runecraeft of the Norns_, and I will once again include a final update to this story when it begins publication.

Whereas there have been mostly only plot-related deviations from the original in _Hermetic Arts_ and _Physical Adept_, _Runecraeft of the Norns_ will represent a complete departure from canon, as the America I have been developing does not even resemble the American depicted in the _Fantastic Beasts_ films; where Rowling's version of magical America seems like it's just another version of magical Britain, I'm going for a version of magical America that draws upon the country's roots and principles from when it was originally colonized.

I am currently seeking a Spanish-language translator familiar with Spanish as it is spoken by Mexican immigrants in the United States; I'd like to get Catalaya's dialog (since she doesn't really speak English) as accurate as possible when she appears in _Runecraeft_. I'm also still looking for people who have first-hand experience of Tokyo and Paris during the summer of '93 who would be willing to share those experiences with me as part of my research for this version of Harry's summer of '93.

With places reopening amidst the continuing WARS pandemic, please take care to remain safe. Don't be like the students of Hogwarts, who forgot about their Ribbons as soon as the danger of the Chamber of Secrets seemed to have passed.

One last time, thank you to my long-suffering editor Romantically Distant for their work editing and proofing this story. I'd also like to thank you for taking time out of your life to read it, as there are innumerable other forms of entertainment you could have chosen to spend your time with. If you have something you'd like to share, please feel free to leave a review or send me a PM, though, with FFN no longer sending notifications for PMs, I might get a little behind on answering them.


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